


You're My Saving, Grace

by GracelessAngel17



Series: Grace [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Other, Quote: Family Don't End With Blood (Supernatural), lots of sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 02:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracelessAngel17/pseuds/GracelessAngel17
Summary: Rather than aiming high after being removed from his latest vessel, Lucifer decides to lay low until he can get his act together. He unwittingly follows the lead of the Charlie Daniels song he's so famous for being in, which is probably for the best in the end, and finds himself in the mountains of Georgia with a clever little witch.





	1. Birds of a Feather - The Civil Wars

It was so dark...and cold.

He hated dark and cold.

The water was pulling Lucifer every way, rolling him over and over, so it was nearly impossible to get oriented. He had to get out of this ocean.

He had to get that sleazy witch back for this, and her pathetic son and those damn Winchesters and that piece of an angel Castiel. They’d all pay for this. But first he had to get out of here. He had to get a vessel that could hold him at least temporarily. He wouldn’t be satisfied showing up in his true form, they wouldn’t be able to see it was him. He wanted them to know who would steal their last breath, who would watch the life drain from their eyes. He wanted, he **_needed_** to be seen.

At last, a wave broke over him, and the archangel’s grace-form shot out of the water toward the shore. Thankfully, there was no one around to see the ball of white light crash into the sand, or to watch it scramble up the beach and into the woods of the eastern Georgia coast.

If anyone saw him as he passed through towns and neighborhoods, they didn’t mention it to anyone else. Unless of course they were the unfortunate few he tried to communicate with. He tried in vain for days to find anybody who would let him in, but it seemed everyone he tried to speak too either couldn’t understand him or got scared senseless and rejected him. Or passed out. If it hadn’t been for the crucifixes in that one place he would’ve had a guy, but the human saw that the crosses flipped upon Lucifer’s entrance and he fled.

" _Figures_..." he muttered to himself, winging his way up the side of a small mountain. He had seen a little red VW Beetle puttering up the road, and wondered if its driver would be interested in a little deal. Of course, if this one wasn’t he just might have to smite them for it; he needed to blow off some steam before he went totally nuts.

The road dead-ended at a quiet little cottage, like something from a fairytale. There were flowers everywhere (mostly roses, so they obviously had good taste) and a few herbs here and there. Homemade windchimes jingled in the breeze, some made with colorful melted glass, some with little rocks and feathers, but the one that caught his eye was made of animal bones.

“ _That seems promising…guess I’ll have a look-see._ ”

He floated over to the nearest window to peek inside, and while he wasn’t disappointed by what he found, he was a little concerned. The closer he got, the more evident it was that there was a protection spell over the house. Nothing that he couldn’t get past, of course, but nonetheless it meant that whoever was inside knew that there were things out there that they needed protection from aside from other people. And that they had the means to protect themselves magically, “ _Probably another witch…which would make smiting them even better if they reject me. That would mean I could get Rowena twice, in a sense._ ” He reasoned, “ _Wonder if they’re home though…? I don’t see-_ ”

The owner of the house appeared to him like a divine vision from the dark hallway leading into the kitchen he was peeping into. She looked a bit like Vincente, dark colors from her hair to her painted toes; maybe she was a fan, though she hardly seemed the right age. And she looked like she was alone. She certainly acted like she was by herself, like no one was watching, or maybe it was that she didn’t care if anyone was.

Either way, she was a perfect, unguarded target (so he hoped at least). He just had to figure out how to get in her good graces and then into her head…so he searched her mind for something or someone she desired, something he could offer to her to sway her under his thumb. What he found was unexpected, but simple enough, and now he only had to wait for an opportune time to make his move.

He waited for sundown, and then slipped inside.

 

 

After the crushing darkness he’d grown accustomed to over the last seven years (those years being in “normal” time, he didn’t know how long he’d actually been down there…he’d stopped keeping up) the light surrounding him was nearly blinding. It was painful to even open his eyes. It hurt to breathe air that wasn’t cold and damp, the warmth was almost suffocating. There was too much empty space around him. He felt exposed. Vulnerable.

“Where…where am I?” he demanded hoarsely, finally blinking away the sharpness. Once his vision focused, however, he didn’t need an answer; he recognized the room.

He also recognized the man sitting in the corner, but just barely. It had been so long since they’d been in the same place, and so much had changed. Neither was the same as they were the last time they’d spoken, one perhaps for the better, one quickly spiraling toward the worse, “You’re home, son…you’re safe.”

Ordinarily, he would’ve been comforted by his father’s presence, in knowing that he no longer had to be in charge of all his siblings alone, but the voices…the Cage was calling to its escaped prisoner.

_You have no home._

_Nowhere is safe anymore._

_You had one job, to end all of this, and you failed._

He didn’t realize the paint was melting off the walls, or that all the vases had shattered around him until his father grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him back into reality.

 

“Hi.” It was a simple greeting with a believable smile attached. Lucifer leaned against the doorframe of the living room coolly, waiting for a reaction from his next intended host. He had been circling the place for an hour gauging whether this was worth his time. Not much was these days…but he had decided to give it a shot nonetheless. It’s not like he had much going for him or much to lose at the moment; he wasn’t even solidly in a vessel right now, nor was he familiar with his location. He needed a way out, and somewhere to regroup.

The girl lifted her head from the book in her lap to glance at her mysterious visitor; Lucifer assumed that she somehow knew and would recognize his projection of Nick, though he couldn’t make any connection between his original vessel and the girl sitting across from him himself. He’d never seen her in any of his thoughts or anything in his house in the brief time that he stayed there. But this was what she wanted to see, the one image he’d picked out of her mind before he decided to come in. She was practically fixated on him.

Boy, was he in for a shock or two.

Her dark brown eyes widened slightly when their gazes met, then they fell back to the pages between her fingers, then they squinted when they found him again. She studied him meticulously; she was peering through a microscope, and he was the specimen beneath the eyepiece. He saw recognition in her eyes, but it was coupled with confusion and a little bit of fear. Nothing unusual for him. Her mouth opened as if she were going to speak, but there was a short silence before words actually came out, “There’s no way…” she mumbled, slowly closing the book and standing, “Lucifer?”

He took a step back in surprise, wondering if he’d accidentally stumbled upon another angel or a demon, or even some freak of a human that could see his true form through his disguise. For all he knew -he wasn’t wasting his energy on “reading” her, for lack of better term – she could be nephilim or a cambion. Or she was just a really good guesser, “How did you know…?”

She flashed the cover of the book at him, something he’d paid no heed to before, revealing that she was a fan of _Supernatural_ , that ridiculous series his father had started to chronicle the lives of those pesky Winchesters. He caught sight of his name in the title of the particular book she was holding, which amused him slightly, “I’ve been doing a little reading here lately…I thought that vessel disintegrated a long time ago though? Isn’t that the first guy you possessed?”

Her tone was too calm for somebody staring down the Devil himself, and quite frankly it was freaking him out, “I uh…well yeah. This isn’t…uhm.” He was too confused to speak full sentences. This girl wasn’t running away screaming, she wasn’t throwing crucifixes at him or trying to exorcise him, or even backing out of his reach. She wanted him here.

What the actual hell?

Her eyebrow arched inquisitively as he continued to stare at her, “What?”

“I’m just…a little puzzled…right now. Uh...you know how this usually works I’m guessing?” he scratched the back of his head, being sure to keep her in his sights, “I come to you with something you want, you reluctantly give in and help me with my world domination scheme or whatever you want to call it. And spoiler alert, it doesn’t end well.” That last bit probably wasn’t a good selling point, but it slipped out anyway.

“I’ve noticed that on your end, yeah.” She threw _Lucifer Rising_ back into her chair and stuck her hands in her pockets, “I don’t think your uh, ‘divine intervention’ here is going to make a noticeable dent on mine though. Which, all things considered, is pretty sad.”

“It is when I’m not the worst thing that could walk through your door, yeah.” He was far too unsettled to give her the usual smirk, but he did wander closer in hopes that she would become just as disconcerted as he was, “Well, if you’re not going to kick, beg and scream, let’s chat and get to what I’m here for then.”

“Fair enough. Follow me, if you don’t mind.” She shrugged, striding right by him like they were old friends and heading down the hall to the kitchen, “I know angels don’t eat or anything, but I’m getting a drink. Help yourself if you want.” She clattered around in the refrigerator and pulled out a wine cooler before climbing onto a barstool and spinning to face him expectantly, “So… what’s the deal?”

He finally got fed up with the suspense, “An explanation first, would be super actually. You **_want_** me here. Why in Dad’s name do you want **_me_** here?”

She sipped her drink to conceal a chuckle, “Well I imagine the fact that I was re-reading your grand entrance has something to do with having you on the brain, but it’s not even you specifically that I want, er- no offense. You’re not **_exactly_** what I had in mind but hey, whatever floats my subconscious boat I guess…” she kicked her heels against the rungs on her chair, “I know you’re supposed to show up as my deepest desire, right? What I want more than anything?”

“Yeah, uh-huh. The whole temptation spiel, go on.”

“Well… and don’t laugh…what I want most is to help other people.”

Lucifer squinted at her in disbelief, “Soooo, how exactly does that relate to me?”

She smiled sheepishly up at him, which made him even more anxious. He got smirks on his good days, not this rosy-cheeked grin business, “If there was ever anybody on this planet that needed some help, it’s you.” She went on, twisting a stray curl around her finger, “You have nobody to trust, nowhere to go…right? I’m just going off what’s in the books, but I’d like to think they’re pretty accurate for the most part. Biased maybe, but…”

He scoffed, leaning his head against the wall, “You’re not wrong there, kid.”

“Grace Harbinger.”

“Oh. Well, sounds like I’m in the right place for once then uh, _Grace_.” He hadn’t thought to ask her name. He hadn’t intended on needing it after this, but he was wondering if that would still be the case now, “I need a new meatsuit. This is just a projection of Nick here. Think you can help me out?” he held out his arms as if to invite her to come closer but, to his surprise, she didn’t.

“I don’t think you’d want to be knocking around in my head, even if you could.” Grace pulled back her shirt to reveal an anti-possession sigil surrounded by roses just beneath her collarbone. She leaned back in her seat, as if she were still pondering his offer, “But I’ll do you one better…I can fix that one for you. Or bring it back, I guess it would be.”

“You’re a powerful enough witch to do that?” she hardly looked old enough to be living alone, much less have the kind of power that would be needed. Granted a witch’s outer appearance often belied how old they really were, but that wasn’t the case with her. She wasn’t world-weary enough to be ancient.

She scowled at him indignantly, her eyes flashed violet, “My cat could do that, and he’s totally useless. He’s not even a familiar.” A low meow came from the corner of the kitchen, and an enormous ball of black fluff sauntered over to sniff the new presence in the room, “Yes, Nox, I mean you.”

The cat regarded the Devil as though he wasn’t an all-powerful celestial being, and the Serpent regarded the feline with an equally haughty expression, though truth be told he was contemplating petting it. Animals were fine, it was humans he despised, “Does he bite?”

“Depends on the day.” Grace tossed her empty bottle in the trash and watched them curiously; the cat flicking his tail, the angel tilting his head.

Lucifer went for it. Nox didn’t protest, or try to take a chunk out of any of his fingers. He purred and rubbed against his leg. When the cat was satisfied with the petting, the angel was back to business, “Alright so, we doing this thing or not?”

“What’s the rush, you got a date?”

He sighed, feigning heartbreak, “Well my last girlfriend sent me to the bottom of the ocean and my boyfriend won’t even talk to me, so no.” Grace pretended to frown in pity, placing a hand over her heart, “I know, tragic. Story of my life.”

“Listen, I love Sam, but I will gladly fight Rowena if I ever see her. I don’t appreciate all her wishy-washy b.s. with Crowley. Yeah, he’s a demon, but that’s no excuse for her treating her own son that way.” She tightened her braid and hopped off the barstool, “The parents in _Supernatural_ suck, with like three exceptions. And that’s being generous.” He followed her down the hallway to the room where she kept her things for spell-work, choosing not to comment on the accuracy of her statement.

Instead, he observed the décor that adorned her walls; some were photos of nature, others were drawings of random people, and there were a few colorful non-objective paintings. He had a feeling this girl wasn’t entirely put together, and if anything was a dead giveaway it was the lack of a theme or obvious connection between any of the knick-knacks or art that he could see. Her house looked like an odd patchwork quilt, and he suspected she was equally broken and pieced back together.

In his own absentmindedness, he almost ran into a windchime-like piece made of colored glass and wire that hung from the door. She took this time to warn him to watch his head. Nox didn’t try to hide his disinterest as he leapt onto a roll-top desk in the corner and made himself comfortable, “What exactly does this voodoo of yours entail? Just out of morbid curiosity and justified paranoia.”

Grace was almost too busy climbing her shelf to hear him; she was too short to reach what she needed and too proud to ask him to get it for her, “Huh? Oh, the- it’s a sigil like what Rowena was doing in the last book before the one we’ve probably started, but you won’t be sleeping with the fishes this time.” She chuckled to herself, “It goes on your skin, so lose the t-shirt. And it might sting or tingle or something, so you might want to sit down until it’s done sealing you to the vessel.”

“Sealing, meaning?”

“It rebuilds the vessel around your grace, so it’s sealed inside like a human soul. You can still come and go from it if you need to, but you won’t have to worry about asking to come back in because it’s just you in there.”

Lucifer was impressed, both that someone so young knew how to do something so undoubtedly complicated and that a witch had managed to come up with something like that in the first place, “Man, wish I knew about you sooner. Would’ve saved a lot of time.”

Grace pulled a book and an oddly shaped bottle from the top of the bookcase, “And a lot of fangirl heartache. If I had a dollar for every time somebody at a _Supernatural_ convention or online complained about you changing bodies every other story arc, I’d be a rich woman. People get attached to the meatsuits in this fandom. I can’t even begin to fathom what kind of uproar there’d be if Castiel pulled something like that. Or Crowley.”

He never imagined that he’d have fans, not in that sense at least. Yeah, there were those that “worshipped” him, but he never paid them any attention; they had him wrong for the most part so he didn’t offer them any favors. And honestly, all demons were pains in the neck, regardless of their so-called “loyalties” so he avoided them whenever he could afford to, “You must have gotten attached too, or you’d be looking at somebody you know.”

“Oh, I doubt that **_very_** much.” She shook her head, pulling something out of a cabinet that he couldn’t quite make out, “And I never said I wasn’t one of them.”

“Glad to know **_someone_** likes me.” He chuckled bitterly, only catching a glimpse of the apologetic smile that appeared on her face afterward.

“You do have your moments. There’s quite a few characters that the fans just absolutely hate, but you aren’t necessarily one of them. Even with some of the stuff you’ve done.” His eyes flashed dangerously scarlet at the mention of his past misdeeds, at the memories it dredged up, “S-sorry…I-I uh…never mind.” she shook her head to dislodge her own thoughts as she gathered her ingredients and shuffled over to where he sat at her desk.

A silence that was only half as awkward as it should have been fell over them while she mixed ingredients for the ink and then drew the marks across his skin. He watched her intently, hoping against all hope that this wouldn’t be a repeat of what Rowena had done to him, and promising himself that if it was he’d take this one down with him. She wouldn’t have time to get out of his reach, or the strength to struggle enough to get away. By the time he’d formulated exactly how he was going to accomplish his theoretical vengeance, she had finished her work. What she hadn’t done was hex him into oblivion.

“Give it a second to set in. You’ll feel it.” She closed the book and laid the bottle on a nightstand in the corner, then reached over to scratch Nox’s head.

“No incantation? Kind of an odd spell…” he studied the lines and marks, trying to recognize some of them. He thought one of them might’ve been Enochian, but he couldn’t really see it from that angle.

“My magic doesn’t always require spoken incantations.” She informed him, taking a chair from another desk and sitting in it backwards across from him, “A lot of what I do doesn’t even require me being there the whole time.” He tilted his head, so she clarified that she was a hedgewitch, or what some folks around there liked to call a “mountain doctor”. She worked mostly with folk medicine and nature, hence the secluded home in the middle of the woods. She also clarified that Rowena was, in her opinion, a shiftless, low-down, something-that-rhymes-with-witch, and if it was in her power she’d strip the “queen-mother of Hell” of her powers and help her take a long walk off a short dock into the nearest lake.

Lucifer whistled, “Yikes, and I thought **_I_** didn’t like Red…you really have it out for the little ginger, don’tcha?”

“She reminds me of some of my relatives, so I’m not exactly an admirer of hers. I’d do the same to some of them if I thought it was worth the effort…” Grace huffed. She rested her head on her arms wearily, not offering any other details without being prompted.

However, Lucifer had gone eons without much in the way of willing company, so he was eager to keep any conversation going, even if it was one-sided at times, “Let me guess, at least one super-religious and overbearing parent, wimpy siblings that wouldn’t defend you, other relatives only helping you so you’ll owe them…if they bothered to help at all?” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“No religion actually, but that was part of the issue; I believed, I actually **_have_** magic, and they didn’t, even after I showed them what I could do.” She toyed with the rings she wore, twisting each one around and around in no particular order, “The only sibling I have was a scrawny little tween last time I saw him, so he couldn’t do much anyway. But that third bit…dead-ringer, until I moved up here. Folks around here pay their dues for what I give them…sometimes they do more.”

He noticed the sigils searing into his flesh and disappearing, but it didn’t hurt, so he didn’t bring it into the conversation, “Are we related? It sounds like we’re related.”

Her mouth quirked into a half-smile, “For our sakes, I hope not. Our family trees are full of nuts separately...I’d rather not put them together.”

“No, that wouldn’t work out at all.” He shook his head knowingly, pausing when a thought came to him, “Can you imagine what **_that_** Christmas gathering would be like?”

She made a face of horrible contemplation, “Thanks, but I’d rather not.”

There was a moment of tentative silence before they both decided it was okay to laugh.

“The family I had that believed me didn’t do jack for me, so I cut them all off and left when I was seventeen. Didn’t look back.”

He scowled at her skeptically, “ ** _I_** looked back. You can’t tell me that you didn-”

She brazenly cut him off without raising her voice, “You didn’t **_want_** out. You want back **_in_**.” He watched her reposition so that she was sitting cross-legged, her feet in the chair, and beckon for her pet to sit in her lap. Nox obeyed, leaping from the desk to the floor to the chair, and curling into a massive, purring, black ball.

He didn’t try to dispute her point, but he didn’t exactly agree either, “Honestly…I don’t know if I want to go back anymore…” _wow, ok, so we’re pouring our heart out to this kid we just met half an hour ago? This seems smart Lucifer, let’s give her the whole tragedy in one sitting, if you can manage it_ , “I mean…none of the other angels would let me back in. I already know that. And Dad…he doesn’t seem to care either way. But Hell sucks and I’m **_not_** going back in that Cage…but I have nowhere else that’s safe, let alone comfortable.”

Grace tilted her head pensively, stroking the cat’s fur. She didn’t know what to tell him…Were he anyone else, she would tell him to just do what she did; strike out on their own, build a new home to their liking, build a new family that loved them despite or because of what they were, build themselves up… but he wasn’t anyone else, and she had a feeling he had a little more baggage to work through than most folks. Not to mention he had a bit of a reputation to deal with. Of course, he could make a fake identity, but lying only makes things more complicated. And nobody really wants to make things complicated on purpose.

“Demons are unhelpful at best. I don’t know why I made those stupid things to begin with.” He chided himself, “And humans won’t be any more help than my family. They’re either terrified of me…which I guess is reasonable…or they’ve got ulterior motives of their own.”

“Yep.” Grace nodded, her voice sincere, “Humans suck.”

“Of course, **_you’re_** not like other people, are you?” he mocked her seeming distaste for her own kind. It was obvious that her wounded loathing for her kin was honest, and he could relate to her in that respect, but he seriously doubted she held that kind of disdain for the rest of the race too. She couldn’t have experienced enough of them to feel that way, not in her short life, “At least you like to think you’re different from them…but you’re all so good at lying about that. Especially to yourselves.”

He waited for her to lose her temper at the insult, to try feebly to banish or kill him for it, but she only laughed and shook her head, “I’ll have you know I’m a terrible liar, thank you very much.”

“Really? With that poker face? Not likely.” he challenged. He started to stand, intending to break her annoying amount of self-confidence through either the angelic “hypnosis” he’d used on that dopey Vincente groupie, or the messier option of just flat-out torture, but he didn’t quite get to his feet. A wave of tingly dizziness suddenly hit him, and hit him hard, knocking him back into his seat, “Wh-what’s happening? Wha- what did y-you do?”

Even though the room was starting to spin, he could still see the change in her expression, “I told you you’d probably need to sit down…what’s wrong?” Grace booted the cat out of her lap and hovered beside Lucifer, “You’re not feeling sick, are you?”

He shook his head, and then immediately regretted doing so; that made it worse, “I-I feel…I’ve never actually b-been…but I f-feel…drunk…”

“ _Drunk_?” she was trying so hard not to laugh at the thought of a tipsy archangel, “Can you stand up?” he grumbled something that sounded like the word ‘no’ and clutched his head in a fruitless effort to steady himself.

“Is this s’pposed t’happen?” he was being pulled apart and put back together simultaneously.

He flinched at the steadying hand he felt on his shoulder, “I didn’t think it would affect you this much. I thought you being a stronger being would cancel this bit out…c’mon, you need to **_lay_** down. You’ll be in the floor by morning if you don’t.” she tried to coax him forward, but he refused to come with her, “Lucifer, come on. It’s not far. I’ve got you.”

            He staggered backward, his grip tightening on the back of the chair, “How c’n I trus’ you?” he slurred, trying to pull away from her without taking himself down. The amount of brute strength in her slender, freckled arm was more than he bargained for, however, and in his inebriated state he couldn’t pry her grip loose, “If I die…”

“You’ll kill me? Ok, I’ll be sure to remember that.” At last she tugged him free of the chair and guided him down the dark hallway to the spare bedroom across from hers. _I just hope he doesn’t fall out before I get him in here…I can’t lift him up by myself_ , “Here. You stay in here until this wears off. And don’t go stumbling around the house in the middle of the night, if you need something just call me. I’m right through there, alright?” She pointed over her shoulder when she finally wrestled him onto the mattress. He flopped onto his stomach in defeat and grunted, which she took as an affirmative. Grace almost left him lying there as he was, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave him just yet. Something was missing.

Purely out of habit -she knew he didn’t need it because angels don’t get cold, nor do they usually sleep, but the gesture felt right to her – she grabbed the quilt out of the rocking chair in the corner and covered him with it before retreating to her own bed. His eyes fluttered open for a moment as she tiptoed out. He wanted to say something to her, whether sarcastic or appreciative he couldn’t decide, but she was gone and he was unconscious before he could make up his mind.


	2. Sort Of - Ingrid Michaelson

Lucifer didn’t wake up for three days, and he was surprised to find himself still alive when he did. He thought surely he’d been drugged that night, that his supposed savior had actually meant to poison him and had apparently failed, though her motives were as of yet unclear. No matter, he’d find out one way or another.

            Another surprise came in how healthy (and not hungover, thankfully) he felt. His power was by no means at full capacity, but he was certainly feeling better than he had up until then, not to mention looking better. He would be the last to admit it, prideful thing that he was, but he looked terrible that night and the many nights before it. The kid must’ve done something right after all, or wrong, as his conspiracy would have it.

            The bemused, bed-headed archangel rubbed his eyes and pulled himself into a sitting position, stretching languidly as if he’d simply taken a nap and not fallen into a “medically”-induced coma. He noticed the blanket draped over him. It almost made him wonder if his theory was right…was she really trying to hurt him? Grace had to have been the one that put it there; he couldn’t walk in his stupor, much less think to cover himself. He hadn’t even remembered to put his shirt back on.

            “Who’d’ ve thought in a million years I’d wake up half-naked in some witch’s guest room…I really need to get it together.” He swung his feet over the side of the bed and padded down the hallway in search of the home’s owner. He didn’t have to go far to find her either; she was right back in the kitchen, this time singing to herself with an RC cola and a slice of pizza in her hands, “Can’t believe I slept through a concert. Maybe I should’ve tried that with Vincente.”

            “ _…that my love’s too big for you my love…_ oh, well hey to you too.” She tried not to notice the fact that he was shirtless, which was difficult to say the least, but mostly because she was trying not to imagine how peeved some of his more ravenous fangirls would be if this made it into one of the books. Her mischievous side hoped it would, “I would’ve warned you if I thought it was going to do that…you okay?”

            “Oh, I’m just dandy.” he crossed his arms over his chest, deciding to ignore the worried angle of her head and the hesitant step she took toward him, “Would you have? You sure that wasn’t all-”

            “Planned? Uh, no.” she stopped him midsentence to defend herself, “If I wanted you dead or banished, I would’ve done it immediately. I wouldn’t have let you spend the night if I didn’t actually want you here.” She went on singing to herself as tossed the crust back into the box and grabbed another piece.

            “So, you need me for your own scheme then? You’re secretly an evil mastermind with some nefarious plot, aren’t you Gracie?” he liked to think that not calling her by her full first name was insulting like it had been with Sam, but his petty jabs didn’t seem to faze her as much as he’d hoped. He was dying to know what would. Getting under people’s skin was a hobby of his, after all, be it in the literal or figurative sense.

            “ _…you don’t need me, but you won’t leave me…_ I already told you what I wanted you for.” She shot back, “I’m not the one that needs help. I’m offering it.”

            “Well you have to want **_something_** from me.” He growled, “Nothing in life is free. Even the most altruistic have their price.”

            “No, I really don’t.”

            “Yes, you do.”

            “Do not.”

            “I beg to differ.”

             “You don’t beg for anything, and neither do I.” She scoffed, “If I want something bad enough, I’ll get it myself.” She wanted to add that perhaps if he learned some “positive” independence, he wouldn’t be so reliant on on his father’s approval, but he was already mad enough as it was. She didn’t want to rile him up and wind up dead, “But **_you_** must still need something from **_me_** besides a permanent body…or you wouldn’t still be here, now would you?”

            Lucifer froze, momentarily taken aback by her accusation. How dare she say he needed her! He didn’t need a human for anything! He didn’t need anybody now that he was back on his feet, much less some sassy little witch, “What is it you think I want then, since you know me so well, fangirl?” he fired back, trapping her against the counter.

            She shrugged, shifting her weight to the other foot, “Besides your shirt, which is right there by the way, it beats the hell out of me.” Grace took a sip of her drink before thinking about what Lucifer could possibly desire, aside from the obvious, “You don’t want Crowley running Hell, but you don’t want to be down there yourself because the job doesn’t pay. You want Sam to be your vessel so you can get back at your dad, but you don’t actually want to fight Michael or any of your other family. So, you tell me. What **_do_** you want? Do **_you_** even know?”

_Do I?_

In the midst of putting his shirt back on to avoid that conversation – he needed to expand his wardrobe soon, these rags just wouldn’t do – an earth-shattering roar sailed over the house, sending Nox fleeing down the hallway and Grace cowering in the floor, her drink bottle shattered. Lucifer ducked purely out of reflex. The bone-rattling boom that followed spurred both of them to their feet and to the nearest window.

“I sincerely hope that’s not what I think it is.” Lucifer mumbled, eyeing the scorched, broken treetops that dipped into the valley below the house.

“Another angel…it has to be.” Grace shuddered fearfully. She knew Lucifer was hunted, not just by the Winchesters but by the Heavenly Host too. She’d hoped that they’d lost him for the time being so she wouldn’t end up on their hitlist beside him, but no such luck, “Nothing else falls from up there.”

He grinned, but it was far from happy; his tone was mostly resigned and irritated when he clapped her on the shoulder and made her jump, “Well, looks like you’re **_really_** in it now, Gracie. Hope you don’t have any plans for…y’know, ever again.”

“I didn’t, actually, so it’s all good.” She sighed and thunked her head against the window a few times, “But either your dad has a terrible sense of humor, or my karma is flooring it in reverse.” She groaned, covering her face with her trembling hands. Sarcasm could only hide so much.

“I think you mean ‘ _and_ ’, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, that…” she sighed heavily again, contemplating the mess she’d gotten herself into this time and how she was going to get out of it. **_If_** she was going to get out of it… She discovered that it was difficult to think under so much pressure, so she made the executive decision that it was time she and her new cohort went on vacation to clear their minds, “Alright, I reckon we better kick rocks unless you want to be Enochian barbeque…”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow in her direction as she disappeared down the hallway to pack what she needed, “ ** _We_**? You want me to come with you?”

She threw her hands up as she walked away, “Why not? We’re already in cahoots with each other, there’s no point in kicking you out now. It’s not like you have a plan anyway.” She added that she hadn’t intended on giving him the boot to begin with, but now that they were both in immediate danger it seemed stupid to split up, “I don’t have one either, but I have somewhere else we can stay until we do.”

“What about your cat?” Lucifer appeared in her bedroom doorway, watching as she bustled about and threw clothes into a suitcase.

“Let him out, he’ll be alright ‘til I get back…” She didn’t want to leave Nox, but she knew it would be easier to run without having to keep up with the cat, especially considering who they might be running from aside from the UFO down the hill, “You don’t think…if that **_is_** an angel, it’s going to attract attention…” they locked eyes as she closed a drawer behind her.

“Don’t worry about the Winchesters.” He seemed to read her mind without trying; he knew they would come up eventually, “They’re totally clueless as to where I am. They might pick up on whoever that was outside, but we’ll be long gone by the time they get here. I mean they’re probably all the way back in Kansas.”

“They aren’t who I’m really worried about. Castiel and Crowley were the ones out looking for you, but nobody knows where they are right now.” Grace clicked her suitcase shut, then started on a duffle bag filled with books, a laptop, and a camera, “They’ll recognize you if they see us, even if they’re looking for you in a new vessel.”

Lucifer suggested, given this information, that they should keep to the backroads, or just not drive at all and let him teleport them wherever it was they were heading. Grace countered his logic by informing him that Cas and Crowley would likely be on the backroads, given their coaching from the Winchesters, and she informed him that leaving her car behind would look even more suspicious than if they took it. She also accused him of having a car phobia, which he denied with an absolutely pitiful pout. He fell silent again, watching her put things away or throw them into her luggage; her calm demeanor had fallen just a touch, but not because of him. She was more concerned with the danger that was likely lurking in the forest outside than she was with the celestial being lurking in the corner of her bedroom. She didn’t seem to notice him at all, not in a way that signified she saw him as a threat…she wasn’t constantly looking up to gauge his every move, her own movements weren’t guarded, and she wasn’t tensed to attack if he twitched the wrong way. She even turned her back to him, something not many lived to tell about.

“You don’t sense anything close by, do you?” she hefted the bags’ straps onto her shoulders and prepared to depart, “Whoever fell hasn’t come towards the house, have they?” He didn’t feel any hostile forces hovering within his reach, so he shook his head and followed her out, clicking the lights off as they made their way out the door to her garage. Nox didn’t bother to see them off.

“How long is this trip gonna take?”

“Around three hours. Depends on traffic. Shouldn’t be too heavy this time of night.”

He paused at the foot of the steps, rocking back on his heels to leer at her, “You’re willing to ride with me for that long? To be alone-”

“I’ve been alone with you conscious for nearly two hours collectively already, if you were gonna do something, you’d have done it by now.” She cut him off again, without missing a beat, “I’m not here to feed your ego, Hot Wings, I’m just trying to save your ass from a really awkward family reunion.” She opened the front passenger door of her Beetle and stood off to the side like a chauffeur, “After you.”

He didn’t try to intimidate her again after they got in the car.

Fighting for lost causes like that was really starting to wear on his nerves.

 

 

            He didn’t even feel the pain when his wings carved paths in the earth as they dragged beneath him. The trees snapping against his vessel didn’t register in his mind. The fire surrounding him was nothing new, nothing to pay any mind to.

            It took the ragged angel a few minutes to reorient himself, and to heal his corporeal body enough so that he could continue on his way. He had a mission, and he would stop at nothing to accomplish it. That’s how he was programed. That’s how they all used to be…until their father left them with decisions and the wherewithal to make them for themselves, rather than waiting for His instruction.

            That was a mistake.

            Angels were not meant to be independent from their father. They needed a leader, but they had been without one for so long that they didn’t know what to do when they had one. They asked too many questions, even now that He had come home.

            They needed an example to follow.

            And that’s what he decided to give them.

            He would finish what his brother started, what was meant to be and had not yet come to pass. He would set things straight, and things would go back to the way they had been planned.

            Yes, his father had objected at first, but once he finished his task, He would praise him for doing the right thing. For being the perfect son, the obedient one. For cleaning up the others’ messes…

            He marched on, leaving death in his wake before he even began.

 

 

"Can I ask you something?" Lucifer glanced over at Grace an hour and a half into their trip into the mountains, after a good amount of silence mixed with a few bouts of karaoke. He noted how her hair seemed to disappear into the dark sky, but her eyes caught every light they passed. He couldn’t make up his mind up if they were hazel or not; they looked like dark woodstain until she turned a certain way, and then there were little patches of green and amber.

"Hmm?" She stopped humming along to the radio to respond, and she noticed how the streetlights gave him a halo and turned his eyes silver and his hair almost-grey.

"You gotta tell me what you want out of this deal. I’m not just gonna- well this just doesn’t feel right…" he huffed, leaving his thought unfinished. He didn’t know what he ‘wasn’t just gonna’ do. Leave her with no show of gratitude? He'd already decided he wasn’t going to kill her – that would’ve been the epitome of ungrateful in this situation, if you asked him – but what **_was_** he gonna do? Lucifer hated being unsure of himself almost as much as he hated humankind. And that was something.

She was quiet until they reached the outskirts of the small town they passed through, as if she wanted her answer to be a secret kept entirely between them, "I really don’t know..." She finally said, "Haven’t thought much about it honestly. Don’t really need anything right now so… I guess you’ll just owe me one until I do."

"You don’t want **_anything_**?" He crossed his arms and leaned back impatiently, " ** _Nothing_** at all?"

"What do you want me to tell you? I’m not gonna waste your powers on something stupid... Are you even at full power?" was that concern that he saw on her face? It sure looked like it, “I mean, Amara kicked you out of Cas, then Rowena hoodooed you and threw you in the world’s biggest dunk tank. You’ve gotta be running on fumes at this point…my little spell can’t have fixed everything.” That **_was_** concern in her voice. What an odd thing that was to hear…

“I feel fine, honestly, but I’d feel better if you name your price. I’m paranoid that if I don’t repay you somehow, Pops is gonna strike me down or something.”

Grace scoffed, “Seriously doubt that Chuck actually gives a damn about what **_I’m_** doing to or for anybody. He doesn’t exactly pay much attention to anyone down here unless we stand there and scream ourselves hoarse.” Lucifer could feel the anger rolling off her in waves, but she was doing very well concealing it visually. Her expression didn’t change at all, but her tone grew harsher, “I almost had hope that He would fix things between y’all, I really did…but to be totally honest I wasn’t all that shocked when He took off again without you. Pissed, and disappointed, but not shocked.”

He took it back; he could see the vein in her temple flaring.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He blinked, “What?”

“Him going back on his apology.” Her jaw tightened, sharpening the edges of her face, “But y’know, that’s just a typical person these days, seems like; apologize for something and then turn around and do the exact same thing again like it’s nothing. Guess not even **_your_** father is above that.” The disgust in her eyes, in the twist of the scowl on her mouth, was so heart-felt that he wondered if she would give his father a piece of her mind, were he present. Did Chuck’s behavior so incense her that she would be willing to tell The Man Upstairs Himself just what she thought of Him, consequences be damned?

Man, he sure hoped he’d be there to witness it if it ever happened, “So you’re not a fan of Dad’s either, huh?”

“Oh hardly. Didn’t really hit me until after your concert, when you were talking to Sam and Dean though.” She took a deep breath and some of the tension in her muscles melted away, “At the end of the last story before that, I thought, I **_hoped_** , maybe He’d taken you back with Him and Amara somehow. That He called you back to Heaven so you could **_all_** talk and sort things out. But…guess not.” she chewed her bottom lip to cut her rant short. If she got too worked up about this -which she knew was inevitable at this rate – she would be in no state of mind to drive. And he didn’t have a license.

“But he didn’t. He just…left me. Again.”

When Lucifer’s voice broke, even as slightly as it was, Grace’s heart broke with it. She knew the pain of losing a home and a family. It had been hard to put her pieces back together, and sometimes they just kept falling apart, but it had been worth it, even if she couldn’t see that at first. She wondered to herself for a moment, and suddenly a plan bubbled up in her head, “I know what you can do for me…”

 _Finally,_ “Shoot.”

“I have your word that you’ll do what I ask?”

“You got it.”

“Ok. That’s what I want then.” She said, “Call it a behavioral agreement.”

He suddenly seemed skeptical, with his fingers steepled in front of his lips, “Go on…”

“The best revenge is getting better, not bitter. Let me help you do that. If I ask you not to do something, you won’t. And vice versa. I promise not to make you do anything ridiculous. And I’m not gonna lock you up in the house or anything either. Just keep that promise, that’s all I ask.”

In response to her request, Lucifer made the most inhuman sound of frustration Grace had ever heard in all her 23 years of life. Why couldn’t she ask for a million dollars, or the left pinky finger of her archenemy? Why’d it have to be this hippie mumbo jumbo? Asking him to behave himself… Did she know who she was talking to? He **_invented_** the angsty teen rebellion. Why couldn’t she be greedy and self-centered? And why the hell was she laughing?

"There's just no pleasing you, is there?" She giggled. He glared over at her; a moment ago she was trying to mend his broken heart, and now she was teasing him, "Fine. Now on top of cooperation, I never want to have to pay for gas again. And I want my closet to always be full of any kind of clothes that I can imagine. And I want a car like Dean’s, but I want it to be white with a red interior. And..."

"You’re impossible." He muttered.

"I try." She grinned mischievously.

He pushed the thought (the realization, rather) that he was the exact same way most of the time out of his mind and tried to focus on the radio. He had hoped another at least decent song would come on and distract his tormentor, but it wasn’t music that caught their ears:

_Breaking News: Meteor crashes down in Habersham county, followed by freak lightning storms. Reports filed by forestry service claim a "shooting star" has crashed to earth and wonder if there is a connection to it and the massive thundercloud covering the city. Details as they arrive._

"Sounds like we dodged a bullet. I just hope the gun doesn’t reload between here and the cabin." Grace's smile fell as she peered into the rearview anxiously.

"It shouldn’t have fired at all. Upstairs is on lockdown until further notice, Dad's orders. No angels in or out until the gate Castiel and Metatron screwed up is fixed." They both doubted that such a monumental task had been completed in the few months since Chuck and Amara left. It may not have taken the wayward angels long to break Heaven's door, but it couldn’t be a simple thing to repair.

"What if...couldn’t somebody sneak out? I mean it’s not like Chuck is watching every single angel all the time, or He –well actually He wouldn’t have intervened down here sooner, but you get the point." Lucifer pondered the possibility of a runaway. Castiel did it numerous times to save Sam and Dean, and Gabriel had left when his brother had been cast down, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. And it was possibly more dangerous than someone sent intentionally. Their allegiance and purposes were totally up in the air, so they couldn’t be trusted.

But then again, could anybody? 

 

 

            Several states away, Team Free Will was assembled in the library of the Bunker, attempting to formulate a plan of their own. Lucifer’s lack thereof had caused all of them great confusion and an even greater amount of concern. With no dastardly plot, they had no clue where the rogue archangel would strike next, or what he would strike for, or if he even would.

            Sam was arguably the most unnerved, both by the fact that the Devil hadn’t killed them all when he had every chance in the world, and by how genuinely upset Lucifer had seemed when he went on his tirade about being abandoned again. He had almost started **_crying_** , for Pete’s sake. That was not the same obnoxious, insanely malicious person who had gotten stuck in Sam’s head for months after they left the Cage. It wasn’t even the incredibly spiteful – yet somewhat helpful when he wanted to be – person that had been with them not so long ago. Whatever Lucifer had been through prior to Chuck’s return hadn’t done it, but God disappearing without a trace again had broken His son entirely.

            What scared Sam the most was that he almost felt sorry for Lucifer.

            He understood how he felt, though not on such a cosmic scale. Yes, it broke his heart when he fought with his dad before he left for Stanford, and Mary leaving again had devastated him, but he hadn’t become a homicidal maniac because of it. If only Lucifer wasn’t such a… ** _drama queen_** … Maybe he could…

            “Sammy?” Dean nudged him with his elbow, “Sam.”

            He shook his head to snap himself back into the present, “S-sorry. I was just thinking…” he massaged the bridge of his nose, and then scraped his hair back with his fingers, “What’s up?”

            “You didn’t hear it?” Cas tilted his head toward the map in the main room, “The alarms were set off. They’ve been ringing for almost ten minutes now.”

            “Sounds like we’ve got company, Moose.” Crowley was the only one who, outwardly at least, seemed less ruffled than he should have been. He had healed himself on the way back to the Bunker, so he didn’t look like a total train wreck, but the boys had all expected one of his infamous flare-ups at any given moment. He was too quiet after getting the daylights beaten out of him by his most hated rival.

            Sam nearly jumped out of his seat, “What? Do we know what it is? Or where?” Dean promptly informed him that they had been discussing that exact matter for the past nine minutes, and then proceeded to ask him where his mind had been during that time. Sam told him he didn’t know, which was a lie, and decided to cover it up by repeating himself, “So, what’s up?”

            Cas leaned over the map table, bracing both hands on the edges, “Something triggered the sensors here,” he pointed somewhere between Georgia and South Carolina, “But all we’ve been able to dig up is a small forest fire and a lightning storm. One site mentioned a “falling star” being seen prior to the storm, but nothing else has happened yet.”

            “Might be an angel, might not be.” Dean added, leaning his weight on the pillar behind Castiel, “Hope not. One feather-brain down here is one too many.” The angel in front of him shot him a squinty glare until he clarified that he meant his older sibling and not him, obviously.

            “So lads, looks like we’re heading east until that handsome Devil pops up again.” Crowley stood a little too close to Sam for his liking, but neither bothered to take steps away; they were both too exhausted to care enough, “Unless you lot have a better idea.”

            Sam huffed. It wasn’t like they had any leads on Lucifer after his dramatic exit a few days ago, and there was no sense in waiting on one to crop up on its own. Maybe if they beat the bushes enough on another case, they could catch a break, “Fine by me. First thing tomorrow then?”

            “Crowley and I could leave ahead of you. We don’t need the rest that-”

            “Uh, no.” Dean stopped Cas, “You both got your asses handed to you. Neither one of you is leaving this bunker until you take a break. Now I don’t know what has you two, especially you Crowley, on this kamikaze kick all of a sudden but y’need to nip it in the bud, like, yesterday.”

            Cas started to object -he wasn’t a child, and he wasn’t about to be bossed around like one, not when this situation was partially his fault – but Crowley beat him to the punch when his anger finally exploded, “Well perhaps if we got a _thank you_ here and there, not every bloody time we help clean up after you two of course, just every so often, we wouldn’t feel the need to put on a bloody show, Squirrel.” He snapped, “But instead I get kicked to the curb like some dirty mutt, regardless of the fact that I very well could’ve **_died_** for your sakes on several occasions, and Cas may get preferential treatment between the two of us, but he still doesn’t get any gratitude.” The King of Hell turned to the angel for backup, but all he got was a slightly perplexed stare. It was then that he discovered that they weren’t on the same page at the moment.

            “I uh…” he scratched the back of his neck, “he does have somewhat of a point, but that’s not what I had in mind, actually…”

            Dean already knew what Cas had in mind. He always knew at times like this, because it was always the same, self-depreciating thought with pretty much everyone in the room, himself included, “ _Castiel_ , for the last time, not everything is your fault. You are not always the only one responsible for something going wrong, man.”

            “Dean’s right, Cas. Yeah, you let Lucifer out, but he helped us, er, tried to anyway…” Sam chimed in, “And he was doing fine until Chuck went back on His apology and left. Honestly, I think if that hadn’t set him off, he’d have gotten his own vessel and left us alone.” Dean and Crowley didn’t share this theory, they were a little more cynical about the matter and didn’t know what Sam had been smoking when the thought **_that_** up, but Cas couldn’t help but wonder if that wouldn’t have been the case.

Even when they shared his vessel, he could sense that the other angel was growing weary of all this back-and-forth business between them and him. He hadn’t tried to escape from them or betray them in the process of battling Amara, and it became even more evident at the concert that he was sick of the whole charade. If one looked closely enough, one might conclude that Lucifer didn’t want this anymore than anyone else. He wanted out.

Cas fell into a guilty silence, his head hung low, and he sighed a muffled, “Fine.” He was tired of all the fighting too, and had been for a while now. None of them deserved having to deal with this nonsense, the Winchesters especially. They didn’t deserve any of what they’d been put through by Chuck, Azazel, or anyone else.

He felt he didn’t deserve Dean’s comforting hand on his shoulder, but he chose to keep that to himself, lest that thought spark another argument, “We’ll fix this thing, Cas, but we gotta do it together. No more flyin’ solo, got it?” Their gazes met, and held. Cas nodded, “That goes for you too, Crowley.” Dean added, reluctantly turning away, “Look, I am sorry that you feel ‘left out’ or whatever…so uh, thanks for earlier.”

He shot Sam a meaningful glance, implying that he should throw something in too, but the younger Winchester’s show of appreciation lacked the conviction that was in his brother’s voice. Dean had temporarily been friends with Crowley, even when he was no longer a demon himself, but Sam lacked whatever strange connection they had. He didn’t trust him, or particularly like him…he really didn’t know how to feel about him after the failed Demon Trials. Uneasy was all he could manage.

“Now was that so hard?” the demon gave them a smug grin with a pinch of lingering irritation, “Do what you will, Cas, but I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning. I look forward to our little roadtrip, part two.” He sneered, almost suggestively, then disappeared just in time to miss the sensors blaring again, this time further up the map.

“It’s moving, whatever it is.” Cas mentally noted the new location, “I’ll stay in here tonight and keep an eye on it. You go get some sleep.” Sam and Dean agreed that it was far past their bedtime, told their third Musketeer goodnight, and headed off to their respective rooms for a few hours of restless sleep.


	3. Black Sheep - Gin Wigmore

The Winchesters and their cronies weren’t the only ones alert to this new visitor, however. The British branch of the Men of Letters organization had the same equipment as the boys’ Bunker, and quite a bit more that wasn’t so antiquated. They knew exactly what they were dealing with via their sensors and data collecting devices, their only issue was **_how_** they were going to deal with it…

            “This angel is very powerful.” The woman at the computer screen informed the rest of the group, “Possibly from one of the higher ‘choirs’…”

            “How high, exactly?” Mick Davies studied the information spread around him carefully, “What sort of phenomena have been reported since it landed?”

            “A forest fire, a few blackouts, and temperature spikes up the east coast. Some unconfirmed light anomalies in more remote regions.”  

            “Any casualties?”

            “Not yet. But the higher the angel’s rank, the more likely they are to smite humans that get in their way.” Another man said, “The bigger ones aren’t all that friendly.”

            “Well neither are we…” Mr. Ketch piped up from his place in the corner. He had always hated these “political” meetings; he’d much rather be told what he’s killing and where to find it and get it over with so they could move on to the next beastie, “Does it honestly matter what the thing’s so-called ‘rank’ is? An angel blade will dispatch it regardless, will it not?”

            Mick cast Ketch a sidelong glance then went back to shuffling through papers, “I don’t fancy sending three people to fight something when it requires six. Better to be prepared than to run in blindly.” He didn’t miss Ketch huff and roll his eyes impatiently, “Unless of course you’d like to volunteer, Mr. Ketch. Clearly you think you can handle it on your own.”

            “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out of the fun, Mick.” He retorted as he made for the exit. He’d listened to enough for his liking; he needed to prepare for their departure, “You do love the academic side of these things. Perhaps we’ll learn something new about our winged watchers this round, eh?”

            Mick certainly hoped so, given what else they knew about the various angels inhabiting the human world…one in particular at least. It simply wouldn’t do to have Lucifer walking about on the same continent as some of the most deadly supernatural hunters on the planet, now would it?

 

 

            Dean was the first to rise the following morning, and he was thankful that Cas was right where he’d left him the night before; he had been worried that his ang-… that his best friend had snuck out while he was sleeping, “Mornin’ sunshine.”

            Cas was busy pecking away at Dean’s laptop, searching for new information on their prospective case, “Any particular reason you picked that nickname, out of everything else you could call me?” he didn’t sound annoyed, just curious.

            “Because you always look so chipper and happy in the morning, like a little ball of feathery sunshine.” He replied, sarcasm practically dripping from his mouth. In truth, Cas usually looked like he wanted to punch something if you saw him before 9 AM. He kinda looked like that after 9 too, but Dean suspected that was just his normal expression.

            He turned that scowl toward Dean and raised one eyebrow, “I didn’t realize you were a comedian instead of a hunter.”

            “I thought I was a lumberjack.”

            “So did I.”

            “Ahem.” Came Sam’s voice from the door behind them, “I hate to interrupt your battle of wits here, guys, but did you find anything worthwhile last night?” he headed toward the kitchen to start the coffee.

            Cas leaned back in the chair to talk to him through the door, “Some rangers went to investigate the wildfires; they weren’t very large and no one was hurt, but there’s a girl missing from the area where they originated. They said no one has been able to contact her since last night.” There was a photograph of the girl pulled up alongside the news articles.

            “Grace Harbinger. Lives alone, no family ties in the area…” Dean leaned down closer to Cas and the laptop to get a better look for himself, “Think our feathered friend hopped a ride with Lil’ Bit there and took off?”

            “Possibly.” Cas tapped his temple thoughtfully, “And it looks like they’re heading up the coast. There were blackouts in South Carolina all the way until this morning at around 5, and strangely high temperatures reported throughout Tennessee and Kentucky. Our sensors went off again in Virginia just before you came in. That’s the last of it.”

            “Sounds like we’re gonna have to split up again…” Sam sipped his coffee, “Crowley come in yet?”

            “Why? You miss me, Moose?” Had it been anyone else, Sam would’ve replied, “ _Speak of the Devil…_ ” but that probably wasn’t the best choice of words in this case, “Truck’s packed with all our goodies Cas. Ready when you are.” Castiel was practically bursting with joy at the thought of more alone time with Crowley, the others could just tell.

            “Actually…” Dean piped up, coming to Cas’ rescue, “You’re with me, Crowley. You two need a vacation from each other before he smites you or you stab him. Sam, you and Cas take Georgia, we’ll head up to Virginia and have a look.” Sam wasn’t sure who was more surprised by this arrangement; him, the angel, or the crossroads demon. If Dean ever separated from his brother, it was because he was going with Cas…him volunteering to go with Crowley threw them all for a loop.

            “If you insist, Squirrel…I call shotgun this time though.” Dean shrugged in response, and followed him out after jotting down the coordinates for the location of the strongest disturbances and telling the others goodbye. Sam and Cas soon followed suit, both clambering into Cas’ pickup and rumbling out of the garage and down the road.

 

 

            Two seedy motels and a wardrobe change later, Sam and Castiel arrived on the scene of the missing person case to meet with the local sheriff as Agents Lennon and Cooper (Sam insisted that Beyoncé was a little too obvious to be used as an alias, and Cas finally relented).

Sheriff Willard was what most folks imagined when the word “Southern” was paired with the word “sheriff”, something between Andy Griffith and Buford T. Justice – although he looked more like the latter – and he was rather perplexed by the current situation, “Fellas, I just don’t know what to make of it.” He told them as they glanced over a map of the area in her kitchen. Nothing was missing, he’d told them, except for Grace, and nothing was broken. There was no blood. Neither of them saw or detected anything that was suspiciously supernatural, aside from the lack of the previously mentioned things, “I’ve known this girl for near of five years…she’d never run off like this. Not without tellin’ somebody way ahead of time. I just don’t get it…” He scratched his moustache.

“So, she hasn’t been acting strange recently?” Cas studied the picture of her that was pinned to the corner of the map. She seemed normal to him…not that he was an expert on what **_was_** normal, but he could at least make an educated guess, “No odd behavior, suspicious company?”

The sheriff shook his head, “No more than usual, not that I’ve seen anyhow. She don’t come to town a whole lot, but when she does she’s a friendly little thing. Not an enemy to speak of…none that would do anything to her.” He seemed to know something else that he wasn’t letting on, so Sam pressed a little further.

“But she did have some? There are people that don’t like her?”

“Well…not **_her_** necessarily…” he hesitated, “Grace was a little different than most folks down here…religion-wise y’see…she uh, well some folks don’t agree with her practices, but they’d never hurt the girl. She helped folks with old-timey remedies and whatnot, so nobody really bothered her about it.”

 _Witch_ was the unspoken word passed between the angel and the hunter.

Willard’s attention was suddenly drawn to a few of his deputies involved with the search party combing the woods, so he handed a copy of the case file off to Cas and excused himself to deal with organizing his subordinates. The boys decided to head out and sort the details out for themselves on the way back to their room.

“So, if she’s a witch like he said, if she has magic, can an angel even possess her?” Sam asked once they were safely inside the cab of the truck, “Does that have any bearing on anything?”

“Honestly I don’t know…I’ve never seen it done, or heard of anyone doing it.” Cas said, “I wouldn’t think it would affect anything though…unless she’s warded herself somehow. I mean she’s technically still human even if she is a witch.”

Sam’s mind jumped to Rowena, and how **_in_** human she was, in spite of her outward appearance. She may look like a normal woman, her taste for flashy clothes aside, but there was something… ** _else_** …about her. He always thought that **_else_** separated her and others like her from regular people, but apparently not.

“Should we try calling her ourselves?” Cas suggested, sensing that Sam was drifting off, “Maybe she’ll answer an unfamiliar number.”

“Most people don’t do that, Cas…but it’s worth a shot. At least we’ll be able to track where the phone is, hopefully. Maybe it’ll tell us which way she went.” Sam dug through the file to find her personal information, and dialed the number listed under her name. He waited anxiously as the dial tone buzzed dully in his ear, nearly dropping the phone when it stopped and a voice replaced it.

“ _Hello_?”

His eyes lit up like Christmas lights and he had to remind himself not to grab Cas’ arm in excitement, “Hello, Grace Harbinger? This is agent Lennon from the FBI…” one phrase was all it took for Sam to blow his cover, even though she couldn’t see him through the phone. She put him on speaker, but gestured for Lucifer to stay quiet, “ _I was just calling to check in on you, the uh, local police got a report of some strange activity around your place last night, and you’ve been reported missing. Is everything alright?_ ”

On the other end of the line, Grace decided it was time for those drama classes from high school to pay off, “Oh, yeah. Yessir, everything is fine. Wh-what happened? I didn’t see or hear anything odd…”

“ _There were reports of a meteor falling on your side of the mountain. A few trees fell, a few things spontaneously combusted_.”

“I must’ve been gone already. I didn’t feel a thing.” She huffed, making sure her tone was pointed enough that the angel on her end of the line caught the worry in her voice, “Was anyone hurt?”

“ _No, no, just spooked some campers. The reason I called you was that you uh…a lot of people in town seem to think you’re into magic. They were worried something had gone wrong._ ”

“I promise I ain’t working roots on anybody.” Grace laughed nervously, “I’m just a big fan of _Harry Potter_ and I have an herb garden and a black cat. Gives some people the wrong idea I guess.” She reasoned she wasn’t technically lying about any of that, so she didn’t feel as bad about it as she probably should have. Lucifer’s skeptical expression didn’t help her conscience though.

“ _That’ll do it. Listen, you wouldn’t be available to answer some questions in person, would you?_ ”

Damn, they were out looking for her. She could faintly hear the rumble of the engine in the background, “Afraid not. I’m halfway to Savannah…it would be hours before I could get back. We could meet down there, if you’d really like to talk though.” She offered, knowing that she was in another state entirely, and by the time the Winchesters realized she wasn’t coming they would have wasted hours figuring it out.

“ _Alright, uh where do you want to meet up? I’m not familiar with the area…_ ”

Grace wracked her brain for the name of a shop or something in Savannah that would be easy to remember and find, “There’s a statue called _The Waving Girl_ on River Street, right next to the water. Real hard to miss. I’ll get the hotel and meet you there around 5:45 or 6.” Sam scratched that down on a notepad and then told her to have a nice day. She reciprocated the thought before hanging up with a heavy groan, “I called it.”

“And you call yourself a bad liar…’course he could still figure it out and come looking for you.” Lucifer tapped his finger against the side of his mouth, “If Sammy coming to visit doesn’t run you off, nothing will.”

“For the millionth time, I told you I’m not going anywhere. We’ll deal with Sam, Dean, or whoever else finds us, if they do.” She replied resolutely. She wasn’t budging.

 _Damn she’s stubborn._ He decided he liked that about her, “Well, can’t say I never warned you…”

“I know…” she flopped on the opposite end of the couch from him, their legs not quite touching; they stayed that way for quite some time, not talking much. It was nice, while the short-lived peace lasted.

 

 

            “I should have enough to trace her signal now.” Sam pocketed his phone and turned to Cas, “She sounded fine, but that doesn’t mean much. We need to find her, and fast.”

            “If there is an angel in her, or even if they’re in another vessel traveling with her, she could be in grave danger. Or **_we_** could be, for that matter.” Cas turned the truck into the parking lot of the motel they were staying in and pulled up in front of their room, “Not many of my siblings deal with other supernatural beings unless they’re up to something…and that scenario is bad news for everyone.” 

            “Yep.” Sam agreed, “Anything out of Dean or Crowley yet?”

            “They got there a few minutes ago. Dean’s saying that they’re hearing things similar to what we’ve got here, but nobody has gone missing.” Cas fumbled with the room key and the case file, which Sam ended up taking from him so they could get in, “Which is strange, unless it’s an angel that already has a vessel, or something that isn’t an angel at all.”

            Neither of them was sure which they would prefer to deal with.

            “I just hope they can handle whatever it turns out to be. We really don’t need any more surprises right now.” As much as he enjoyed riding rollercoasters, metaphorical ones weren’t quite so fun as their physical counterparts, and these past few…well… ** _years_** …had definitely been rollercoasters.

            Cas sighed, loosening his tie and raking his fingers through his hair, “Forgive the expression, but amen to that.”

            Sam paused opening his laptop to soak in the joke and conclude that Castiel had been around Dean for far too long. It was starting to show now more than ever. He wondered if some of his recent “sassiness” was connected to Lucifer cohabitating in his vessel – he could hardly speak without making a snide comment or a “joke” – but he knew most of it was just exposure to his brother, “Wow, Cas.”

            The angel shrugged and chuckled as he flipped the file open on his bed, his phone resting by his leg in case there was an emergency with Dean and/or Crowley.

Mostly Dean though. Crowley was capable of handling himself.

Not that Dean wasn’t.

Cas was just more concerned for him with his past record of decision-making in times of crisis. He was always so willing to throw himself in danger, never once thinking of his own safety…it was a quality about him that his “guardian angel” loved to hate. It made him who he was, but it also got him killed a few times, which is not a typical problem for most humans. Of course, Castiel really had no room to talk in that particular area – angels weren’t supposed to keep coming back once they were gone - but that didn’t stop him from worrying over Dean more than anyone else, himself included. He tried his best to watch over that endearingly stubborn man, even when he wanted to knock Dean’s lights out himself.

“So get this…” Sam cut into his thoughts, sounding irked, “Miss Harbinger isn’t anywhere close to where she told me. I got a weak signal on her phone in Sevier County, Tennessee, in the mountains somewhere. She said she was on her way to Savannah, Georgia.”

“How far is that from here?”

“One is a four to five-hour drive south, the other is a three-hour trip north…” He clicked away, trying to narrow the radius they would have to search, “Would’ve been smarter for her to not answer, if she’s hiding something.” He huffed, obviously displeased that she’d attempted to deceive them.

Cas was prepared to continue their pursuit, but he wondered if Sam could take much longer cramped inside his truck. Even he could acknowledge it wasn’t the most comfortable ride in the world, “We should head that way in the morning or later tonight, but don’t give her any warning. If she calls back, tell her something’s come up on our end and we’ll meet her tomorrow.”

Sam grunted in response, scratching out her bad directions and scribbling the new coordinates down in their place, “I’ll call the sheriff before we leave and tell him we’ve got a lead so they can stop looking.” He shut the laptop with a little more force than necessary and stuck it back into its bag, “You can text the guys and update whenever between now and then. I’m going to take a shower and get comfortable. The ride here killed my legs, man.”

“You’re getting old, Sam.”

“Back at ya, Methuselah.”

 

 

Further north, Dean and Crowley parked Baby at the edge of a crime scene nearly identical to Grace’s backyard, complete with a trench that was six feet wide and a hundred yards long, and full-grown trees singed and broken like they were saplings.

"The Forestry Service must not be terribly busy, sending three guys to investigate this." The officer in charge said after they flashed their badges at him, “It’d be one thing if a building was hit or somebody died, but this is just a little forest fire.”

"Three?" Dean hadn’t called Garth or anyone else for backup, and Sam and Cas were several states below them. It occurred to him briefly that the actual Forestry department I might be there, but he doubted that.

"Yeah, one of your guys is already here. Little blonde fella over there by the van. Ranger Norse I think is what he said his name was."

Dean glanced at Crowley in confusion - if it wasn’t someone they knew then who was it? - before following the sheriff's gaze. No recognition crossed the face of the King of Hell, but Dean looked like he'd just seen a ghost. In a sense, he had. He nodded to the sheriff then grabbed Crowley’s arm and pulled him along behind him. Dean cleared his throat as they came to a stop, "Mornin' Ranger Norse." He said, half expecting to be wrong in his assumptions.

The other false ranger turned to greet them, proving him to be right instead, "Well... well... well...hiya Dean. Long time no see." Gabriel drawled, regarding Crowley with mild disdain, "I hope that's not Sam.”

"No, Sam's with Cas.” Dean waved off the ridiculous statement, “Glad to see you’re back in action. We could use your uh, expertise, if y’know what I mean.”

Gabriel grinned, "Yeah well, I got tired of sitting on my duff this whole time. Wanted the case to be over, y’know?" Dean heard his undertones, his meaning beneath the words used to keep prying ears out of the conversation, "Anywho, since I’m back from sick leave, I’ve got a job I need your help with."

“Likewise.” Crowley tilted his head toward the ashen forest, "What about this mess?"

"Oh uh...heh..." The youngest archangel chuckled sheepishly, "All this was...actually just me...landing. I'll just wrap this up and meet you guys back at my place." Gabriel didn’t care to explain, he simply snapped his fingers and transported the demon and the hunter to his luxurious (and self-fabricated) bachelor pad.

"My word..." Crowley gasped, "Decadent little bastard, isn’t he? Who is he?"

Dean couldn’t conceal his grin when his eyes fell on the ridiculous amount of pie and sweets that were laid out on a buffet table, and he had to stop himself from drooling outright when he noticed the two of them weren’t alone. He waved at the girls, and was delighted when they sauntered closer, "That short, crazy, glorious sonofabitch is Gabriel."

"The **_archangel_**?" Dean nodded, only half listening as one of the women fawned over him, "As in the owner of this fine establishment is related to Cas...our sweet, innocent little angel Cas?" Crowley was surprised when the second girl turned her eyes on him. He didn’t mind of course. Not at all, "I like him already."

"Hard not to, ain’t it Dean?" Gabriel himself soon appeared, no longer wearing the costume. Instead, he looked just as he had the night he died: red shirt, tan jacket, jeans, and boots, "Hell, I’ve killed him a few times and he still likes me."

“Hey man, to be fair, you were just returning the favor.”

“Good point.” He didn’t really think killing the older Winchester 100+ times was equivalent to him and Sam stabbing Gabriel with the wrong thing two or three times over a few years, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue about it at the moment. They had more pressing matters to attend to, “Alrighty boys. First, a question or two…who the hell is the demon, and since when do you run on that side of the fence, Dean-o?”

“Crowley. Current holder of the throne of Hell…more or less.” He introduced himself, “And I’ve been rather helpful, I’d like to think, to the Winchesters. Of course, I have betrayed them a time or two…”

“Or three.” Dean added, with a cheeky grin thrown Crowley’s way.

“Oh, I bet you have.”

“Don’t worry about him, Gabriel. He’s on our side.”

“Yeah, for now…and believe me, I’m far from worried about a little crossroads demon, ‘ _king’_ or otherwise.” The archangel smirked down at him from his perch on the staircase, implying the power difference, “If need be, I can handle him and any of his friends…”

Crowley toyed with the mirage-girl’s hair, brushing it over her shoulder, “In that case, I suppose I ought to be on my best behavior then. Don’t fancy **_two_** archangels at my throat.” The girl shook her head as if she were truly concerned for his health, “Your brother isn’t my biggest fan, I’m afraid. Lucifer is a little, how you say, **_territorial_** …about the basement level of this looney bin.”

“Well, he **_was_** there first…” Gabriel half-laughed, half-scoffed at himself. He knew better than anyone else on this earth that his brother didn’t want that place, that he’d never wanted to be there to begin with. He saw the fight before Lucifer was cast down into the Cage, and the better part of it was him struggling against Michael in an attempt to get away rather than a flat-out brawl like everyone wanted to think it was. Even the fight between Gabriel and the fallen archangel was mostly an argument that neither of them wanted…and he’d brought the physical combat on himself by not running away like he should have once the Winchesters and Kali were safely outside… “Speaking of, that’s what I need your help with. My brother.”

“We’re already trailing Lucifer…” Dean informed him between bites of pie, “Got no leads on him, but I’m sure that’s where you come in, right?”

Gabriel shook his head, “I’ve got more than one brother, I’m afraid…” He hoped Dean wouldn’t choke on the sweets before he was done with his story. He didn’t want to have to explain that one to Sam or Castiel…not with his track record.

 

 

            At 6:15 that evening, Sam called Grace as Cas had suggested, and told her that they wouldn’t be able to make it that day to meet her. She replied that she would be happy to rearrange the meeting for the following day, so they set a lunch date and went on about their business, both unaware of the truth at the other end of the line, “I hope that bought us some more time. I don’t think they'll be too thrilled with me if it didn’t." she sank down onto the couch, leaving space on the other end for her guest.

Lucifer returned from exploring the cabin – it was almost like they hadn’t left her original house, the aesthetic was so similar – to recline once more on the sofa like he owned the place. His posture belied the fact that he was far from at ease, despite their otherwise uneventful day.

She had unpacked after getting a few hours of sleep, and then she had convinced him to come with her to Gatlinburg for some things for the fridge and pantry, and for a little sightseeing too. There was so much nature around them, even within the town’s limits, that he could almost forget there were humans there too. She confessed to him on the way back to their little hideaway that that was the reason she’d bought a cabin up there; as an escape.

He didn’t want those morons in Kansas goofing up his little arrangement yet again; he was starting to like it here, and he wasn’t in the mood for either of the options that would be presented to him if the Winchesters showed up; fight or flight, "We aren’t running again if they show up, are we?"

Grace frowned, "You might need to stay out of sight...just for a little while, and not far. Just until they leave." It was one thing that she had lied to Sam about where she was, but she could cover that up easily. It was an entirely different matter that she failed to mention she wasn’t alone and who her company was.

He sat up straight, "What if they try to take you? Or catch me?” he didn’t like where this was going either. If she was away from him for too long, anything could happen…including the treachery he’d become accustomed to. He didn’t want to think it of her, not after today, but his suspicious mind wouldn’t let the thought rest.

"I won’t let-"

“What if they don’t believe you?" _What if **I** don’t believe you?_

"I-I don’t know..."

"You aren’t planning on ratting me out, are you?" Suddenly he was in front of her, towering over her like the wrathful creature he could be, "Getting caught and then turning me over to save yourself...doesn’t sound like you, now does it Gracie?"

For the first time since they met, she recoiled from him, though fear wasn’t the foremost emotion he saw in her eyes, "What? **_No!_** I would **_never_**... " She looked like a kicked puppy, and she felt just as betrayed, "If I promise something then dammit, I promised. What the hell makes you think I'd turn on you like that? I’ve done nothing of the kind!" she was standing toe-to-toe with him, almost literally. Her arms were crossed to hide the fact that she was shaking like a leaf.

"Not **_yet_** you haven’t. But everyone does it at some point." He hissed, jerking her chin upward hard, "Right about now is when yet another knife gets lodged in my back. Everything is lookin’ up for me then **_BAM_** , it’s gone. What makes **_you_** any different?"

"I’m sorry that you’re so damn paranoid, but I **_ain’t_** everybody else is what!” Grace was trembling too hard to hide it now, with tears threatening to fall and her face flush with the task of reigning her own fury in, “I-I don’t know what else to say t-to convince you... but I don’t guess that matters if you don’t believe me." She shot daggers back at him, though her glare lacked any real hostility and his was more exhausted than angry. Unable to hold her glower without crumbling, she quickly averted her eyes and stalked over to the bay window in the next room to keep her composure.

Something in him stirred, something unfamiliar, and it softened that stab of fear and rage that had suddenly hit him when Sam called her back, "Look at me." He appeared beside her, and closed most of the space between them. The whole concept of someone like her was foreign to him, so it was no wonder he was freaked out. She didn’t flinch this time, only side-eyed him, "Promise me something. I won’t question you again. I also won’t ask this of you again. One chance, that’s it, that’s all you get."

"What?"

"Promise me, **_swear_** to me, that if that angel, or anybody else finds us, that you won’t betray me. Don’t be a hero." If she was the real deal, if she really wasn’t afraid to look past what she already knew about him and see whatever was left, then he had to keep her in one piece. And alive. And he had to keep her close, not drive her away, “You know what happens to people who betray me. It would be nice to not have to smite a sidekick for a change, don’t you think?”

Grace let out a breath she hadn’t meant to hold in and nodded, "Only if you promise me that you will **_not_** hurt or kill anybody else unless you have **_no_** **_other_** choice." She shot back with a surprising amount of command, "You said you were tired of being ' ** _that_** Lucifer', of being who everyone thinks you are. So don’t be him."

He thought no one had been listening when he confessed that to the Winchesters, much less reading it… he knew **_they_** weren’t hearing a word of it, so he had just been talking to himself really. A few millennia by himself in the Cage had turned that into a hard-to-break habit.

“Alright…” he pulled away, “I won’t if you won’t.”

Now he was starting to think that **_he_** was the one that was in over his head, not Grace.

“I-I’m sorry…really, I am.” she stammered after they both simmered down a bit. The unprompted apology surprised Lucifer; he didn’t usually get one not accompanied by the person begging and pleading for their life. Of course, he wasn’t blatantly threatening her now, so she must’ve had another reason for it, “I know this is going to be hard… But you have to trust me if this is going to work out.” she was asking for his faith, something he didn’t know if he possessed anymore.

But he made up his mind to listen, for once, “Y’know something…you’re the first person to ever say sorry to me and mean it.” He dug his hands into his pockets and regarded the girl in front of him thoughtfully. The Sun was setting in the valley, turning their skin a glowing red around the edges. Her eyes were molten gold, his were dark lilac.

She responded that she was only the second person ever that was given the chance to sit and talk with him at any length, to which he replied that he didn’t know many other people that would be willing to apologize to him for anything even if given the opportunity.

She gave him that one, grudgingly, “Well, now that today’s drama is out of the way…I don’t suppose you’ve got a plan yet?”

He thought about it briefly, deciding to take a page from her book as a reply, “Haven’t thought much about it, honestly.” His mind had been elsewhere for most of the day – on the past, on the present – not on the future.

“Oh, so you’re quoting me now?” This seemed to lighten her mood, if it was only from furious to jokingly exasperated, “I’m still waiting on that car and closet, by the way.”

“You weren’t **_serious_** about that…?” he raised an eyebrow at her and crossed his arms.

“I intend to hold you to all your promises just as you intend to hold me to mine.”

“I didn’t promise you **_that_**!”

“No, but you told me to name my price, and I did.” Her eyes quickly dried of almost-tears and a playful smile returned, “You gonna pay up or what? I’m not taking you out anywhere with us lookin’ like we just woke up, even if I just did.”

“ ** _I_** look **_fine_** , thank you very much.” He turned away as though he was offended, but the mention of going somewhere kept him from going to hide and pout in the bedroom he’d claimed. He was thoroughly enjoying not having to lurk around and hide all the time, and he would reluctantly add not being alone to that list too, “And just where are we going, exactly?”

“Back to town. Walking will be involved.” She started towards the kitchen to grab a drink for the road, “We may be on the run, but I’m not trying to catch cabin fever by staying cooped up here all day every day. So hop to it.”

He groaned dramatically, not unlike his initial response to her ridiculous requests, but if he was anything he was a man of his word. If you made a deal with him, you got what you asked for…whether you liked it or not. He contemplated how he could turn this one around on her, but nothing immediately came to mind. You couldn’t really screw up free gas, a new car, and an endless closet in any sort of way that he thought would get her goat. He now understood that Grace was hard to genuinely offend, and he didn’t want to risk **_her_** potentially turning it around on **_him_** somehow, “Fiiiiine…” Lucifer sighed, shuffling toward her room at the top of the staircase and muttering, “ _Brat_.”

“ _Sucker_.” She brushed past him on the way to grab her makeup bag and her camera while she waited. Had she been anyone else, he probably would’ve thrown her down the stairs for that comment, but he reminded himself of his decision to “reform himself” and “change his ways”, and decided to teasingly pull her almost waist-length hair instead. She squealed in surprise and spun around to get him back, but he was already out of her reach by the time she turned.

 

 

            “I’m genuinely curious, have you always been this much of a diva, or is it a new thing?” now dressed for a night on the tourist town – comfy sandals, a live flower crown, and a flowy cotton dress – Grace sat on her bed waiting on Lucifer to join her. With her new, endlessly stocked closet, she’d decided to provide both of them a wardrobe for the duration of their stay, which was proving to be slightly regrettable. He’d been looking for something for going on twenty minutes now, and hadn’t made up his mind yet, “Do I need to pick for you, or are you going to come out of there sometime this century?”

            He poked his head out indignantly, “Well **_excuse me_** for wanting to look presentable.”

            “I didn’t think you cared what other people thought.”

            “I don’t. I care what **_I_** think.” He corrected her from behind the closet door, “Black or grey?”

            She started to ask him what made her opinion relevant instead of just giving it to him, but for the sake of time she shook her head and replied, “Black. That’s not even a question with me. It will always be black.” At last satisfied with his attire, he stepped out of the wardrobe as if he were Vincente strutting onto the stage, “All that for a leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans? I should’ve told you to get ready first…”

            “Well now you know better.” He tossed her a set of car keys for the Impala that was waiting in the driveway, complete with their own set of trinkets; a pair of metal angel wings, a red ‘G’, and a rhinestone cat. He saw her admire them like they were made of precious metals and jewels, and it made him feel…strange… He couldn’t quite describe the little pinprick of warmth that crept under his skin where it had so long been so cold, and he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, so he headed out the door before she could thank him and make it worse, “What are you standing around for? C’mon, you were in such a rush five minutes ago!”

            She fumbled around with them for a few seconds before darting after him. Lucifer needn’t have rushed away from her reaction to the keys, however; it was the delight that washed over her upon seeing her new car that sent him aflutter. Granted, this Impala was the wrong year-model… Baby was a ’67 and this one, later to be christened Cloud, was a ’64, - Grace could tell by the shape of the hood and the fenders - but she didn’t care all that much. It was the thought that counted in her book. She tried not to dote on it too much, but it was hard to resist breaking down and squealing like a schoolgirl, “Oooh, it’s so pretty. I love it.” She beamed as she slid into the driver’s seat and cranked it up. The engine’s purr only made her smile harder, “This is what Christmas morning is supposed to feel like. Thank yooou.”

            “Y-yeah, sure.” He’d never show or admit it, but Lucifer was flustered by the gratitude. He almost tripped over the door on his way in because it caught him so off-guard, “I’d say your wish is my command, but I don’t want you getting more silly ideas. And, well, it just isn’t. So there.”

            She backed out of the carport and they drove down the mountain as the Sun continued to drop below the horizon, painting the peaks and valleys with fire, “If you say so.”

            That assertion didn’t seem to apply when she talked him into buying matching airbrushed souvenir shirts (“Because we’re tourists, that’s why.”), or playing a highly-competitive game of mini-golf (which he accused her of cheating at after he did and still lost), or riding the Sky Lift to soak in the nighttime view of the city below (“This isn’t flying, but it’ll have to do.”). She didn’t bother to ask about sneaking a few pictures while she was capturing the scenery, and he didn’t stop her from doing it either…being the diva that he was. He did check them before she saved them though.

            “Why don’t you just live up here?” he asked as they emerged from the Mountain Mall and headed back to the car around 11 PM. They hadn’t bought much because most of the shops were closed when they got there, but she promised they’d come back to shop the next day, if he wanted, “It’s not swarming with people, these mountains are fantastic. I’d live here if I were you…” he wondered if the sunrises were as colorful as the sunsets. He decided to stay outside tonight and see.

            Grace shrugged, sliding her camera between them on the seat, “I thought about it, but then where would I go to get away from here? Going back to the house wouldn’t work, not to get away from stress or boredom…” she shrugged again, chewing the inside of her cheek as if something had started bothering her, “If you don’t want to come back with me, when- if I go home…I-I mean, if you want to stay at the cabin-” _Well that came out wrong no matter which way you look at it. I’m either super-clingy or suddenly trying to leave him. Great._

            “But I’m not you. So I guess you’re stuck with me until I change my mind about it.” He didn’t seem to register her inner conflict, to her great relief, and the odd pair rode the rest of the way back in content silence.


	4. Ballad of a Prodigal Son - Lincoln Durham

“Well, here we are.” Cas gently nudged Sam awake when they arrived at their motel, “I can see why she ran here. Seems like a nice place…”

            “Yeah, nice…” Sam grunted, rubbing his eyes – and his head after smacking it on the window again – and stretching, “Dean still not answering?”

            Castiel shook his head and collected some of their bags, “No, and Crowley isn’t either. Not since this afternoon…I hope they’re alright.”

            “I’m sure they’re fine, Cas. We’d probably know otherwise…what with your ‘ _profound bond_ ’ or whatever with Dean.” Sam didn’t get many opportunities to tease the angel about his relationship with the older Winchester, so he wanted to take full advantage of the chances he got. He really didn’t even know what to call their relationship; they were obviously more than just friends, and while **_he_** considered Cas to be his “brother” he could tell Dean felt something stronger between the two of them…but they weren’t dating.

If anything, they were just frustrating to anyone trying to figure it out.

“I guess you’re right…even with his warding, I’d feel if something was more off than usual.” Unfortunately for Sam, Castiel wasn’t as easily flustered by the jabs as Dean was; the human would get red in the face, he’d curse and storm off, he wouldn’t answer any question even remotely related to “Destiel/CasDean” …the angel, however, took it all in-stride. He was not ashamed in the least of his feelings toward anyone, and he certainly wouldn’t hide them. He knew his feelings wouldn’t change in any humanly-measurable amount of time, so he didn’t feel the need to deny or conceal them.

“Really though? It works like that?” Sam tilted his head curiously. He’d only been joking; he had no idea how their “connection” worked. He assumed that it affected their working relationship as much as it did their personal one, but he didn’t realize to what degree.

“Yes. How do you think I find you two so fast if we get separated?”

“Well…I would say luck…but we don’t seem to have that kind of luck.” Sam threw his bags onto the floor and himself onto the mattress. He silently thanked Chuck for beds.

That was true, “Luck doesn’t have much to do with it. If Dean wants me there bad enough, whether he prays directly to me or not, I can find him just from just his longing. Or you…but he’s easier to lock on to because I marked him when I pulled him out of Hell.” Cas reflexively touched his own shoulder where his handprint would be on Dean’s. He hadn’t meant to scar him like that before they even officially met, but even when Dean wasn’t aware of himself he was hard to persuade and Cas had to pull a little harder than he’d expected to.

Sam sighed, both from exhaustion and to acknowledge Cas in one breath. Not many breaths after, the younger Winchester was sound asleep, on top of the covers and still in his daytime clothes. Castiel wanted to wake him and tell him to actually get ready for bed, but he didn’t have the heart…he knew he would eventually rouse himself and do those things, so Cas let him be.

Instead, he got comfortable on his own bed and pulled out his cellphone to check it. He had still received no replies, and it was starting to weigh on him again, so he sent one more message in hopes of getting a response:

 

We’re in Gatlinburg now, nothing to report. We’ll continue looking for leads tomorrow. Goodnight Dean

 

His phone finally lit up around 3 AM and put him at ease:

 

Sorry. Just got your texts, bad service. Talk more tomorrow. Night Cas

 

 

            “These are the right coordinates?” Mick edged out of his and Ketch’s SUV, one hand hovering anxiously over a stolen angel blade, after they found the angel’s supposed hiding place. It was an old church, abandoned several decades ago by an overflowing congregation. The stained-glass windows were still mostly intact, but the doors had long since rotted out of their frames, and the bell had fallen from its tower and into the foyer. Ketch nodded, his own angel blades secured in his belt, just loose enough for him to reach down and snatch out if need be. The other B.M.o.L operatives exited their vehicles in the same fashion, and they all converged silently on the chapel.

            Almost silently, actually.

            That one very snappable twig that always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times appeared, sending the whole group into a muffled panic. Ketch wanted desperately to shoot the imbecile that stepped on it in the foot, until he realized he would have to shoot himself, “Bloody hell…” he snarled, waiting for the inevitable assault from inside the church. All of them stood tense and terrified at the edge of the churchyard.

            But nothing happened.

            The ground didn’t rend itself apart. No blinding lights appeared to turn them to ash. Their ears were not filled by the dreadful sound of beating wings. No voice spoke from the clouds above.

            They inched forward, crossing through the gate that separated the church from the outside world in front of it and the cemetery behind it. Still nothing. Ketch ordered four operatives around to the side doors, five to the back, three to stand guard out front, and he, Mick and two more went inside.

            Mick saw the candles burning on the altar before he saw the angel, who was seated in the front pew as though he were waiting for the service to begin. The angel didn’t turn around to acknowledge them face-to-face, but he’d heard them from miles away so there was really no use in sneaking about. They should’ve known that.

            “It astounds me that some humans have so little regard for hallowed ground…” the angel spoke at last, still not turning. His would-be attackers froze, “You planned to spill blood here, in this sacred place. My blood.”

            “There’ll be no need for bloodshed of any sort, if you tell us your business.” Ketch replied boldly. He might not have been so quick to snap at his target had he known to which angel he was speaking, “Who are you and what are your intentions?”

            Mick was mortified – not surprised though – by Ketch’s nerve, and tried to backtrack the attitude. He didn’t want to get the shaft from a seraph just because he was standing next to a lunatic, “Wh-what he means is-”

            “I know what he means.” The angel replied coldly. He stood and walked toward the pulpit, “As for my intentions, they are the same as yours. Rid the world of the unclean, Eve’s monstrous children. And find and destroy my wicked brother and his allies.” He left out the ‘restart the Apocalypse’ bit; that information was a strictly need-to-know basis, and right now he was the only one that needed to know it.

            “Your brother?” Ketch was intrigued. He knew that most angels referred to each other this way, as siblings, but this one’s tone was different. There was no comradery in his voice; he said ‘brother’ like it was a poisoned word.

            The angel stepped behind the podium and looked down at his father’s creatures, the pitiful, wretched animals that called themselves Man. How far they’d fallen from whence they came…it was almost sad enough to stir him. But not quite, “You know him as Lucifer.” He said simply, as if it were any other name, “I am Michael.”

            “The…the archangel?” Mick sputtered. Ketch was too aghast to speak. This wasn’t what he’d bargained for. He could handle your garden variety seraphim, cherubim, and what-have-you…but even his mighty ego cringed at the thought of what he’d just walked himself into.

            Michael nodded, “I can sense you are righteous men. You understand my mission. I-” he stopped short, his pale green eyes glazed over. He fell still. Only he could hear the voice of the Cage, whispering its torments into his mind. Gabriel was right; that place had broken the strongest of them all in the worst way possible.

_Your father doesn’t understand you. He abandoned you again._

_Gabriel betrayed you Michael. He chose a side._

_Those men outside will betray you. They aren’t strong enough for this._

            Without warning, Michael’s wings burst forth in a blinding display, and anyone not quick enough to shield themselves was burnt to cinders. Even the ones outside. And if they weren’t singed by the blast, they were likely hit with a barrage of glass shards from the now shattered windows. Mick and Ketch were just fortunate enough to dive behind the back benches and miss the brunt of the flames and shrapnel.

            Michael blinked and shook his head, hoping to come back to his senses, “If you’re still alive, I’d like to propose an alliance…” he offered as if nothing had happened, as if all but five of the twenty-some Men of Letters weren’t lying dead at his feet.

            But honestly, who could say no to him, even then?

 

 

            Grace was arguably just as exhausted as the boys that night - she hadn’t meant to walk around **_that_** much, but it was easy to lose track of time and wear yourself out when you were trying to lose yourself in the process - but the following day, despite the fact that at least one of them was pursuing her, she felt like she’d slept for a month solid. It was well past sunrise, closer to lunch really, when she finally rolled out of bed…

            And realized her balcony door was slightly ajar.

            For a panicked second, she thought either the Winchesters or the mysterious fallen angel had broken in while she slept, and an even more alarming thought occurred to her as that one passed. Her companion was awfully quiet, if he was awake and alive; she almost hadn’t gotten him to hush once they got back from town. She nearly fell asleep talking to him on the couch, but she dragged herself upstairs and went to bed, “Lucifer?” she called, but not too loudly. She didn’t want her voice to crack from the nerves building inside her.

            “Hmm?” his head suddenly popped in from outside, giving Grace a start, “Didn’t realize you were up.”

            “I wasn’t ‘til just now. What’re you doing out there?” she stepped out into the warm sunshine, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. There wasn’t much of a breeze, but it wasn’t hot yet, thankfully.

            He shrugged, returning to his seat in the rocking chair next to the railing, “I’ve been out here all morning. I got restless. I’m not used to **_not_** looking over my shoulder every second and **_not_** fighting somebody every time I turn around… relaxing is…weird.”

            She untied her hair to redo the braid that had fallen to pieces in her sleep and laughed, “Don’t slack off too much now, we **_are_** being chased y’know.”

            “Yeah but…it all seems so distant. I don’t feel like we’re close to anything up here.” He seemed to enjoy the fact that the chair rocked; he kept a steady rhythm for several minutes, “Those boneheads will never find us.”

            She hoped he was right. Any altercations, physical or otherwise, would send Lucifer straight back to Square 1, where he was a cantankerous, smite-happy fiend and Grace wasn’t having it. She wasn’t putting all this “hard work” (here meaning last night’s moonshine tasting circuit and retail therapy) into loosening him up and making him let go of his past for his own sake just to have it all shot out from under them because someone else couldn’t let them be.

            “Any plans for today, kid?”

            Grace snapped out of her reverie and into another train of thought, “After lunch we can go hike some trails if it isn’t too hot…I haven’t done Alum Cave Bluffs yet.”

            Lucifer tilted his head thoughtfully, “Sounds like a winner to me. Then more donuts at that place in town?”

            “Yes, then more donuts.”

            “Hell yeah.”

            But they wouldn’t get those donuts…

 

 

            Sam and Cas had been packed and ready for the hunt for hours by the time their target had awoken, but they had bidden their time so as not to arouse her suspicion. They wanted to catch her completely by surprise to prevent any sort of preparation on her part…allowing time for that rarely worked out in their favor.

            “Alright, I’ll call and remind her that we’re supposed to be meeting on River Street… I just hope she buys it.” Sam dug his phone out of his pants pocket and dialed Grace’s number on speaker as Cas finished straightening his tie. Again, “Hi Grace, Agent Lennon again. We still on for lunch today?”

            “ _Yessir. I’ll be there waiting. Sorry for all the run-around. I guess spur-of-the-moment vacations aren’t the best idea, huh?_ ”

            “Not when meteors crash-land in your backyard, no.” they both laughed the same nervous way, like they were both aware of something they shouldn’t be. Which, in fact, they both were, “Alright, we’re on our way. See you in a few.” He hung up and stuck the phone in his jacket this time.

            Seconds later, a message popped up on Sam’s laptop screen - her (almost) exact location- and the boys hopped into the truck to go and find her. Little did they know what else awaited them…and not just at the cabin.

 

 

            “So, are you feelin’ artsy or do you want to get your soul ripped out by fictional characters?” Grace was sitting in the living room floor, a paintbrush tucked behind her ear and DVD boxes spread across her lap. They already had breakfast/brunch/whatever – it was mostly her doing the eating, but **_some_** body snuck some cinnamon buns when he thought she wasn’t watching – and were trying to make up their minds about what to do until they were ready for their mountain adventure. This same sweet-stealing somebody was, of course, no help at all.

“Up to you, I don’t have a preference.” Lucifer answered as he inspected her bookshelf, “Or…y’know…a soul.”

“Can you hear my eyes rolling?” she was debating whether she should try to paint something with her new tag-along (or if she should just paint **_him_** , though she doubted he’d sit still that long), or try to get him addicted to _Game of Thrones_ (who was the evil one now?) when she heard it.

            The engine’s roar slowly creeping up the driveway.

            Lucifer’s alarmed call for her from upstairs, his footfalls as he entered the room.

            Her heart pounding against her ribs.

            _Damn. They found us_ , “Head out the back door and follow the river to the falls…stay down there until I come for y-”

            “Wait a second, hold up. What about you?” he tried to pull her along with him, but she stubbornly dug her heels into the floor.

            “Never mind me, I’ll be fine.” She wrenched the back door open just as there was a knock on the front one, “Go. Hurry.” They were both out in the yard at this point, on the little patch of grass just off the porch. He refused to let go of her arm, but she wouldn’t budge any farther than he could pull her without yanking her off her feet.

            “ ** _Grace_**.” He snapped, tightening his grip just enough to get his point across, “Castiel will know I’m here. They’ll know you’re hiding me. Now come on.”

            It wasn’t his hard, pleading stare that finally made her bolt into the trees…

            It was the boom of the front door crashing open behind them as Sam kicked it nearly off the hinges after Castiel said something to him.

It was the scowl that the other angel wore as he and the hunter emerged onto the balcony above them.

It was the angel blade in his hand, and the gun at Sam’s side.

It was the irrepressible urge that both the archangel and the witch felt. _Flight._

            They waited for their pursuers to go back indoors before they sprinted for the forest, but they didn’t wait for each other. It was too late to turn back when they realized they’d been separated…and that at least one of them had been spotted.

 

 

            Lucifer really wasn’t sure why he was running from the seraph trailing a few yards behind him. He was an archangel. He could easily overpower him, if it came to that. Sure, Grace would be mad about him fighting either of their pursuers, but she’d get over it eventually. Probably.

He could also disguise himself and blend into the forest effortlessly, but that felt too much like hiding, and he wasn’t one to blatantly avoid his enemies like that. Or he could easily pop himself back into the cabin and avoid all this nonsense and link back up with her, but at this point and with his luck, doing so would only put him face-to-face with Sam instead of Castiel. And for once in his life, he didn’t want to run into Sam on purpose.

He did, however, nearly run into a tree when he heard a panicked squeal and a crash up the hill from him. He almost called out to Grace to make sure she was okay, but her name stuck in his throat when he realized his distractedness got him caught. He laced his fingers behind his back and turned to greet the other angel, “Hello Castiel.”

“ ** _Lucifer_**.” Castiel snarled, brandishing his angel blade. “What are **_you_** doing here?”

            “Admiring the scenery…trying to avoid you and your friend, but that’s obviously not working out. You won’t stab me, Castiel. Put that thing down.” he taunted the younger angel, his forked tongue peeking out of his malicious grin.

            “Oh, I won’t, huh? Pray tell why that is?” Cas leveled his blade at the Serpent’s throat, fully prepared to prove him wrong if he said something else stupid.

            “You don’t wanna upset the kid, do you?” he asked, gesturing to the woods above them, “It takes a lot to rattle her, I’ll give her that, but shanking her new bestie right in front of her just might do it.” Lucifer rolled his eyes when it didn’t click, “Man are you dense…? The one you’re looking for. Grace?” Cas wasn’t buying it, “Don’t believe me? Go ask Sammy what he just found.”

            Despite his better judgement, Cas was about to call for his friend to confirm, but Sam beat him to it and yelled from just out of sight, “Cas! I found her!”

            “Oh yeah?” he called back, “Guess what I found?” he stepped behind the archangel and marched him up the hill none too gently. He was itching for Lucifer to give him a reason to swing, and he contemplated making one up just for the hell of it. Lucifer had put both Sam and Dean through so much torment and misery, Castiel couldn’t fathom why he even let him speak to begin with. Why didn’t he just end him where he stood? “ _Because you don’t have an **arch** angel blade in your hand, genius, that’s why._” He chided himself mentally.

The four of them came together just below the front deck of the cabin where Sam had Grace by the shoulder. Her face was a mixture of fear and indignity, mixed with leaves in her hair where she’d tripped up and rolled across the ground, but it quickly changed into a deadly glower. He let go of her as soon as Castiel and his prisoner crested the hill, and had to stop himself from bolting in the other direction, “L-Lucif-…”

“ ** _Lucifer_**!” Grace finished the name for him with an irritated hiss, “Boy I tell you what…You’re a hell of a runner, you know that? Why’d you stop?”

The men all tilted their heads at the girl; two because they hadn’t realized the fugitives were traveling **_together_** -together, and one because he wasn’t sure he’d heard his companion right, “Grace, you’re not even half Castiel’s size. They would’ve-”

“ ** _Turned me loose_** after asking why I took off. They didn’t know you were here, **_smart one_**.” She snapped, “They thought you were some **_other_** wingnut.” If looks could kill, Sam wouldn’t have to worry about this archangel wearing him to the prom, or anywhere else for that matter, because he’d be a wing outline in the dirt when she was done with him.

“Whoops…”

She rolled her eyes skyward, as if she were asking Chuck to grant her the patience needed to deal with His son, and shook her head in defeat when she received no answer, “Good grief… alright, fine. Now that you two know what’s what, you’re either gonna shoot us or take us as captives. So, which is it?” she turned to them, her hands held up in surrender. No one seriously thought she was going to go that quietly, and they knew **_he_** wouldn’t even consider it.

Sam clicked a pair of warded handcuffs onto her wrists in reply, and tossed another pair to Cas, “We’re gonna have a little chat with you.” He glared coldly at her partner, “As for him…”

“He’ll stand down.” Grace was staring right into Lucifer’s eyes with purpose, her gaze as unwavering as his, “Neither of us will fight. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. **_Right_**?” Lucifer clearly didn’t want to agree to these terms, but for reasons unknown to the new arrivals, he resisted the urge to beat them senseless and allowed himself to be cuffed and lead inside behind Sam and Grace.

However, they both had to fight the impulse to make another escape attempt when she was locked into a Witch Catcher and taken upstairs while he was dragged down into the  heavily-warded basement and trapped in a ring of sigils and holy fire.

 

 

“So,” Cas crossed his arms and glared down at Grace upon returning from confining the archangel down below, “what’s he giving you to help him?”

“Fame, fortune, Hot Topic gift cards?” Sam added, mirroring his friend.

She shook her head, giving both an unnervingly calm smile, “No, but that last one sounds nice. I haven’t asked him for anything serious yet, besides his cooperation.” She wanted to add how well **_that_** was going, but decided against it. They were sitting here just like she was, after all.

“Cooperation? So, you have some sort of plan, then?”

“If I was up to something, I’d tell you. We didn’t have time to plan anything before whatever it was crashed behind the house and we got the hell outta Dodge. And then this pair of sketchy Jehovah’s Witnesses comes bangin’ on the front door here…” She added, gesturing toward them in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Cas’ eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You lied on the phone. You said you didn’t hear or see anything that night.”

“Wasn’t lying when I said I had no clue who it was though. Thought it might be another angel, but I didn’t particularly **_want_** to know. It was obviously bad enough news to spook him and for you two to show up.”

“Let me get this straight…” Sam stared in a mix of confusion and disbelief, “You’re helping **_Lucifer_** out of the goodness of your heart, and he has no ulterior motives that you’re aware of. And he didn’t torture or kill you because you’re…what, **_friends_**?”

Grace smirked, “Well I’ve had some close calls, but we managed to cool off before heads rolled. I’m not sure why he didn’t ditch me when y’all found us _like I **told** him to_. You’ll have to ask him.” She seemed to admire the leatherwork on the Witch Catcher around her neck as if it were a piece of jewelry, “Of course he probably won’t tell y’all anything useful. I’m sure you both know this better than me, but Lucifer’s a bit of smartass.” She almost laughed aloud when she earned the famous Sam Winchester Bitchface™ and the Castiel Squint™. How many fangirls could say they’d seen that in person?

Before they could press her further, Cas’ phone went off and broke the tense silence, “Dean?” he answered, “We caught Lucifer but- what? N-no we’re both fine.” He waited for the yelling on the other end to stop before continuing, “Well if I hadn’t been persuading Satan into a safely warded room I would have called sooner. Yes, Dean, I know that.” He huffed. Grace couldn’t help but laugh at what sounded like an old married couple bickering. She whispered something about it being “worse than in the books” and asked if they did “the staring thing” as much as it says they do.

Sam replied with, “Yeah. Try being in the same room with them.”

Cas told both of them where to stick it, “He’s got a friend here too. Grace Harbinger. Yes, from the- tell Crowley to shut it and come help us, alright?” he was about to hang up when another voice jumped into the conversation, “Who is-? What are **_you_** doing there?!”

“Who is it?” Sam and Grace asked in unison. The smile that crept onto Castiel’s face had both of them confused.

“Took you long enough to get back. Sleeping **_around_** on the job I bet.” Cas teased whoever was on the other end, leaving the others in the room in suspense, “Oh don’t play innocent with me, I’ve known you far too long, Gabriel.”

Mixed emotions flooded the room; Sam was a little worried about Gabriel being around Dean given their history (oh Chuck, him and **_Crowley_** ), but he was hopeful that the other archangel was still on their side…and not pissed about dying for them the last time they met. Grace was happy that one of her favorite characters was making (another) comeback, until she remembered why he had been gone in the first place.

“Oh, well alright. We’ve got some catching up to do anyway. See you there then.” Cas finally hung up, “Apparently, we’re meeting them back at the Bunker. Gabriel has some… interesting news.”

Sam groaned. ‘Interesting’ meant ‘bad’ in their line of work.

Grace decided she needed to be the one to break the news to her compatriot downstairs; the others probably wouldn’t be as delicate with telling him that the little brother he’d stabbed through the heart for protecting his archenemies was alive and kicking. She couldn’t exactly waltz downstairs -in her own damn house no less- and tell him, so she went for the long shot and prayed that he could hear her, “ _Hey, Luc, if you’re listening…um…Gabriel is back. And we’re leaving soon to meet him…and Dean…and Crowley._ ”

At first, she got no response. But then a voice in her head called out to her, and she was glad to be somewhat fluent in Enochian because that’s all she was getting. “ _Grace?_ ” He sounded unsure, as if he didn’t think he could pick up on prayers either, “ _Is that you?_ ”

“ _Y-yeah…you heard me?_ ”

“ _I did. And you hear me…huh._ ” So she could’ve been his vessel, if he’d played his cards a different way that night; only people “compatible” with an angel could hear the voice he was using on her now, “ _So Gabriel’s alive again…that kinda throws a kink into us leaving **in peace** any time soon. Baby brother won’t be too happy to see me._” He noted sullenly. She could almost see the grimace he wore.

“ _I know. I’m sorry we got caught…_ ”

There was a pause, and a change in his tone, “ _Don’t be. If he’s here, then something serious is going on. They might turn us loose if we offer to help…they obviously **need** it._” She knew he was taking a dig at her statements to him about her intentions, but there was something different about how he was doing it. He was being sarcastic, as usual, but it wasn’t quite so bitter.

She turned to the hunter and angel with the proposition, “Guys, listen. Lucifer and I can help with whatever Gabriel came to tell you about, because no news from Upstairs is good news, but you have to let us go.”

Castiel loomed over her, “Why should we trust you or him? Especially around Sam or Gabriel after what Lucifer did to them?”

 _Typical Castiel; doesn’t even mention what went on between **him** and Lucifer. He’s too worried about everyone else to consider himself. _She leaned back in her seat to fully make eye contact, “Why, you say? How about the fact that at any time during the past half-hour, I could’ve hexed the hell out of both of you, but chose not to?” with a snap of her fingers, the Witch Catcher clattered to the floor, “A word of advice, those only work if the witch wearing it means you harm.” She kicked it aside and stood up, causing them to step back out of her reach.

“What about Lucifer?” Sam asked cautiously, “Can we trust him?”

She turned to him, “You probably can’t, but I can.”

 

 

Lucifer tried to mask his relief with aloof disinterest when the door opened, but that was hard to do when the person that came through it looked happy to see you. He wasn’t used to that. He tried to convince himself that it was a trick of the firelight, but flames couldn’t manipulate her voice, “Glad to see Cas didn’t knock you around too much while I was gone.”

He shrugged, “Eh, he doesn’t play rough enough. I got no enjoyment out of it.”

“Playtime is over.” Sam growled from behind her, “Can you help us or not?”

“Well I **_could_** …”

Grace stepped in to keep the conversation from going south. When he hesitated to answer her, she turned her best puppy eyes on him, “You’re not gonna let me down are you, Luc? You promised if I asked…” She pleaded, hoping he would cave to her girlish charm and the nickname. Honey catches more things that fly than vinegar, after all.

“Well since you put it that way.” He said at last, “But after this, if one or both of us try to leave, you two and your little buddies don’t stop us. Got it?” he demanded.

Sam doused the holy fire, but not before flashing his own angel blade at Lucifer menacingly, “Deal. Let’s go, we’re meeting them at the Bunker.”

Focusing his returning energy as they entered the hallway, the archangel easily found the other’s “signal” on Angel Radio and called to him, “ _Hello little brother…what’s-_ ” he jumped a little when a string of Enochian curse words flew at him, “ _You kiss your father with that mouth kid? I know **I** didn’t teach you that…_”

Grace saw his expression change as they moved from the basement to the ground floor of the cabin, “Are you talking to Gabriel?” she trotted beside him, “What did he say?”

“Well I’m not gonna repeat the first thing he said in front of you, but…” he stopped, a look of mild concern passing over his face, “He says we’re definitely dealing with another angel. He won’t tell me anything else ‘over the phone’ though. Somebody else might hear.”

“So much for that lockdown, Chuck.” Sam muttered.

“Somebody could’ve snuck out to catch me, or help someone else.” Lucifer mused, wondering which it was. Either way, things were starting to get ugly, and he was starting to wish he’d listened to Grace and hit the road when he had the opportunity. With her, of course. He made up his mind that, in spite of his abhorrence for the rest of mankind and the short amount of time he’d spent with her, he liked having her close by. She was nice enough, as far as humans go…at least his best approximation of ‘nice’.

She seemed inclined to feel the same, judging by how she was hovering beside him now, like she could protect him from the other two with her bare hands. Or maybe she was the one expecting protection… He very much doubted either of their new “allies” would actually hurt her. They didn’t have the stomach for it. In spite of her affiliation with him, she was too young and “innocent”-looking to draw much wrath from the younger Winchester or the seraph.

Sam holstered his pistol, but Castiel kept a firm grip on his heavenly dagger, “I’m guessing you need to pack?” they all turned to Grace expectantly.

“Well yeah, if you want me to be any help.” She stopped at the end of the hall. She didn’t bother going any further, knowing she would be receiving an escort to prevent any tomfoolery on her part, “I don’t imagine I have the same things in stock as your Bunker since there aren’t any _Witches_ of Letters, and I’ll be damned if I’m sharing with Gingersnap if she’s around.”

“You mean Rowena?” Cas and Sam glanced at each other with slight amusement.

“She’s not a fan.” Lucifer piped up, “I’d trust **_me_** around Red before I’d trust her, just FYI. Grace would probably make all her hair turn blue or her teeth fall out, or turn her into a frog or something… I’d just kill her.” Although it crossed all their minds almost simultaneously, no one mentioned how his last few attempts to kill the witch had gone; it was almost painful for Cas to keep it to himself, since he was there for the original epic fail, but he managed to hold it in.

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind if she decides to act up.” Sam half-chuckled, half-scoffed, though he wasn’t entirely joking. Maybe another witch is what they needed to keep Crowley’s mother in line; if she thought they **_could_** and **_would_** replace her with someone more cooperative, maybe she’d straighten up a bit, “You’ll get first swing, if Crowley doesn’t get to her first.”

“Aw, thanks Sam. Looks like chivalry isn’t dead after all.” Grace smirked, “At least it doesn’t look that way right now. We’ll see when I have to carry all this junk out to the car.”

Cas’ ears perked up, “Oh wait…how are we going to get all of us back to the Bunker? My truck only seats two…and just barely that.”

“Well we’re obviously going to have to take her car too. I don’t have the juice to fly all the way there and through your warding, and neither does Castiel.” Lucifer said, “Question is, who’s riding with who else?”

They were all stumped for a moment. Grace wouldn’t be much trouble to ride with, the boys supposed, but **_him_** on the other hand…both of them were tired of the rogue archangel riding shotgun with them. Even if their experiences weren’t literal roadtrips from Hell, they were close enough to count.

“I’m fine with whoever wants to take my car…if you can make it up that mountain in one piece in a truck, then I say you can drive her.” she turned to her cohort sharply, “Don’t be a pest to whoever you ride with. If he has to tie you up in the trunk, don’t come cryin’ to me.”

He muttered something along the lines of, “I’d like to see either of these punks try it…” but he kept it under his breath to avoid conflict. Lucifer was quite confident he’d get an earful from his driver -of what he didn’t know, either dead-silence or constant complaining – during the drive to Kansas, and one of those a day was quite enough for him.

Reluctantly, Cas volunteered to chauffer Lucifer to the Bunker to keep him from further tormenting his true vessel, while Sam pocketed Grace’s keys and helped her re-gather her luggage for the second leg of their voyage.

True to his word, Lucifer didn’t bother Castiel for the entirety of the trip, just as Grace had requested. He sat quietly in the passenger seat of the truck, watching the scenery roll by and occasionally humming to himself or responding to any question Cas asked. Of course, his innocent behavior in the presence of the other angel was only a façade.

He was too busy constantly changing the radio station in Grace’s car to cause his little brother any problems.


	5. Believer - Imagine Dragons

“What’s that face for Gracie?” Lucifer asked innocently as he emerged inside the garage of the Bunker to a pair of scowls from inside the white Impala.

            Grace glowered at him, “Don’t **_what_** me, Feathers. When I said don’t aggravate **_him_** , I didn’t mean drive **_us_** batty.” Cas got out and asked what was going on, “You ever seen the movie _Christine_? About the possessed ’58 Plymouth?”

            He shook his head, “Well, no…but I know what you’re talking about. Metatron kinda filled me in on some pop culture things before we parted ways…” he’d rather not think about **_that_** whole situation, but he had to give credit where credit was due.

            “Well, you know how she’d start playing music out of nowhere, even if no one was in the car? Just random music for no reason whatsoever…” she added, pointedly looking from one angel to the other. Cas followed her gaze to the archangel with realization and a weary shake of his head, “If I never hear _I Will Always Love You_ again, it will be too soon.”

            “Just be glad that **_he_** wasn’t sing-” Cas started, but the look Sam shot him cut the sentence short. It was full of desperation and fear.

            “No, Cas. Just. Don’t…don’t go there. I’m having flashbacks.”

            “Oh c’mon, my singing wasn’t **_that_** bad, was it?”

            “Luc, nobody wants to hear the same song fifty times in a row, no matter how good it is.”

            “Hey, whose side are you on?!”

            “My ears’, that’s who.”

            “Sam?” Dean’s voice echoed through the garage, cutting into the debate, “Cas, that you?”

            “Coming!” Sam grabbed a few of the bags from the back seat and urged the others toward the sound of his brother. The group shuffled through the maze of cars and motorcycles, Grace stopping momentarily to admire Baby, and into the main room of the Bunker where the older Winchester, the King of Hell, and the shorter archangel stood waiting.

“S’up guys?” Gabriel waved cheerfully at them, until he saw the third angel. His face darkened, and his smile twisted into a sneer, “Luci’ you got some ‘splainin’ to do…”

Lucifer stopped midstride at the sight of his little brother, “How?” he breathed. No one could tell if he was relieved or angry or scared. Not even himself.

“Your daddy’s a little busy at the moment,” Crowley interjected, “so He sent the little homing pigeon to give us the news.”

Gabriel was only slightly offended by the bird analogy; he’d been called worse by some members of the present company, “What he said. Good news bro, if you’re still on the Doomsday Train.” He spoke directly to Lucifer, “Michael pulled a you and rebelled. He’s back down here and cruisin’ for some bruisin’, if ya know what I mean.”

The humans all exchanged a confused glance, “What do you mean **_Michael_** rebelled?” Sam asked, still bewildered by the presence of this archangel. He’d been dead -or as Sam suspected, “dead”- for so long that Sam had lost hope of him ever returning to help, even after Chuck revealed He could bring him back. There had been so many times that Gabriel would have been an enormous asset to them. And yet, there he stood, smiling that crooked smile that sometimes haunted Sam, usually on a particularly rough Tuesday, or when they passed by signs for Mystery Spots, or even when he watched certain things on T.V.

“After we snagged him from the Pit, Dad told him and I quote, ‘No more Apocalypse. It’s dragged on too long for nothing. You leave those Winchester boys alone.’, so he pitched a hissy fit and ran away… He almost got you too. He landed awfully close for you to still be standing.”

Horror washed over Grace as she realized just how close they came to dying at the hands of the most powerful angel alive, how narrowly they avoided the end of the world, “Oh my G-… ** _that’s_** who we saw land in the valley…He…we could’ve…” she was fairly certain she might pass out from the shock if she didn’t sit down.

Lucifer noticed how quickly the color drained from her face; he wanted to say something to her, but nothing that came to him would help ease her mind, so he just stood behind her. He wasn’t exactly the most comforting person in the world but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless, “Yeah, be thankful we were paranoid enough to leave when we did.” He repressed a shudder himself. With time to plan, he could at least give Michael a fight, and her time to run, but he’d hate to imagine the outcome of an ambush, “Where is he now, Gabriel?”

“No clue. We haven’t seen anything promising since he touched down. That’s what I came to them for.” He shrugged, nodding toward the Winchesters, “Also, you should…er, Castiel should anyway, be happy to hear that Raphael is “grounded” for his little temper tantrum a few years ago. Dad didn’t appreciate his hostile takeover bid, so he’s not getting his car keys back, like, ever.”

“So, he’s dead? Like, dead-dead?” Sam asked hopefully.

Gabriel found far too much humor in the fact that they had to clarify **_how_** dead someone was. _These poor jokers…I guess all the bouncing back and forth they’ve done themselves would make anybody paranoid._

“Not getting put back together is what he means, Moose.” Crowley clarified, “Archangels get 3 chances, 3 sets of wings, unlike normal angels and dear unkillable Cas over here. Raphael has only died once, but to come back to life, Chuck has to put all his little parts and pieces back together.”

“And after all the trouble he caused, his chances are lookin’ slim at best. I only got off easy after my shenanigans ‘cause the old man was happy to see that I wasn’t on my last strike before He got back. And I helped you guys, of course.” He added, shooting his older sibling a venomous smile that no one missed.

Sam shifted as if the memory of that night physically stung him, but he wasn’t the only one that felt pain with those memories, “Sorry about that…we didn’t want to leave you-” his gaze flitted between the two archangels nervously, unsure of which one to focus on for a reaction. Lucifer was too focused on avoiding his own thoughts to catch the hunter’s eye.

Gabriel stopped him from babbling on, “I told you to go, Sam. No hard feelings, scout’s honor…” there was a cautious silence between them for a moment before Sam took a breath and let a small smile escape. He agreed to let bygones be bygones, just as Gabriel did, and that little string of tension that had floated between them seemed to disappear…

Only to be replaced by wave of spite, though not from either of them.

“How sweet. Glad to see you making friends, baby brother.” Lucifer sighed sarcastically, “If only it were that easy for me…”

“Well maybe if you’d quit **_instigating_** stuff with these guys all the damn time, you wouldn’t be stuck with nobody but me.” Grace huffed, surprising those who didn’t know who she was. Dean, Gabriel, and Crowley all stared in disbelief and waited for her to explode or crumple to the ground in agony. She just waved at them, the only sign that she’d smarted off to Satan himself being the sullen scowl on his face, “Grace, by the way guys. I know who y’all are. Love your work.”

“Yeah, she can read.”

“Keep on Lite Brite, and you’ll find out what **_else_** I can do with a book.” She shot back, her tone both playful and warning, “I might’ve saved your ass with one, but I can kick it just as quick.” He responded with a pat on her head, a dramatic shudder and an eyeroll, stating that he was “shaking in his boots” at the thought.

Gabriel’s smile fell again into the sneer that marked him as Lucifer’s brother. Their expressions were so similar that they couldn’t deny relation to each other, even if they wanted to, “She’s not the one you need to be worried about…not in that sense at least. You’ve already got a fight coming your way.” He growled. It wasn’t clear who he was indicating that Lucifer **_should_** be worried about, himself or Michael, but Lucifer took it as a challenge either way.

“I don’t think I’m too concerned about that either, I can take care of anything or anybody that gets between me and what I want…” The two archangels snarled at each other across the table, cold blue eyes boring into fiery gold.

The others were afraid to intervene for fear of it getting physical, but Grace wasn’t deterred by their power struggle. If anything, she was irritated with the macho match. But that was alright, she knew how to get them to focus, even if it meant embarrassing them. Being a fangirl well-versed in the ins and outs of the fandom and fanfiction had its perks, “If you fellas don’t mind holdin’ off on the celestial pissing contest here, we’ve got something a little more important than- don’t you interrupt me Lucifer.” She turned on him just as he opened his mouth to object, “I ain’t in the mood for you and your brother fightin’ over who Sam likes better.” She jerked her head toward the younger Winchester, much to the amusement of _his_ brother. 

“Wait, what?” Sam hadn’t picked up on any sort of subtext in their argument, so he was a little confused by her calling them out on it, and even more so by the angels’ bewildered expressions. Lucifer looked both surprised and incensed, while Gabriel looked like a deer in the Impala’s headlights. Somebody just got busted.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a second-!”

“That is not-!” Lucifer started, but Grace silenced him again.

“Oh please. You sound like a couple of jealous exes bickering…and look like a pair of peacocks with your feathers all puffed out.” She cut them both off, “Now while I’m sure Sam here appreciates all the attention…”

“Not really.” He muttered, glaring at Dean and mouthing for him to shove it.

“Not the point. We’ve got Michael to deal with. You two need to focus on stopping that fight before it starts, not starting one yourselves.” She scolded them like she was their mother, “You can vie for his affections when this is over and done with.” Sam’s expression contradicted her offer. This only made Dean laugh harder and Crowley arch his eyebrow higher. Castiel had the decency not to pick on Sam, but instead to shoot Gabriel little smirks and snickers.

“If you want Tall Dark and Gloomy, Gabe, then by all means…take him. I won’t stand in the way of **_true love_**.” Lucifer lilted mockingly, releasing his brother from his glower.

“He wishes.”

“I do?”

“ ** _Anyway_** , what’s the plan?”

            "That all depends on you." Gabriel crossed his arms, his gaze not faltering, "You still want to duke it out with Michael?"

To anyone who didn’t know him, Lucifer’s expression may have seemed blank, cold even, but his eyes were a dead giveaway to his true feelings, "I never **_wanted_** to fight in the first place, I wasn’t given a choice. Neither was he. We were given orders and expected to follow them. You know that."

"So no?"

"If I’m being given a choice, then no, I don’t want to fight him. Or you. Or anybody." He admitted, pausing to correct himself and putting a hand on top of Grace’s head, "Maybe her on special occasions, but honestly I’m sick of all this back and forth with you guys. Neither of us will win. We're all too stubborn to stay dead long enough for it to count."

"Guess you have a point..." Sam hated to admit it, but he was right, "So, you calling a ceasefire then? Until we handle this?"

The elder archangel scoffed, "Don’t expect me to cast the first stone **_after_** this either. Grace and I are gone as soon as this is done, just like we told you."

Dean gave him a skeptical scowl, "C’mon man, you know that’s not how this works. It’s never that simple for us..."

Grace shrugged, “We’ll see.” She knew very well how most of these situations ended for the Winchesters. She had read every untimely death, every scene of heartbreak, every nail-biting battle. She knew she was a "side character", if you will, and she knew what fate they usually suffered... But she decided she wouldn’t be one of them, and when she’d made up her mind, good luck changing it.

“We shall indeed. Crowley, you and Luci’ might wanna hang back out of sight. Michael might hesitate to attack us, er, me and maybe Dean anyway, but he would smite you on-sight."

Both of Crowley’s eyebrows shot up and he jerked his thumb toward the other archangel, "You don’t think **_this one_** will? The only thing your darling brother here hates more than humans is demons, and he hates **_me_** more than all the rest." He looked to Lucifer for confirmation, which he received via a terrifying smirk, "What’s to stop him from snapping me like a twig if he catches a fancy?”

Castiel turned from whispering something to Dean to address them, "Just don’t irritate each other. You two won’t be alone together for long, if ever. We're not asking you to be roommates or anything." There was a collective look of "Dear Lord no" that swept across the room at the mention of that thought. No one was sure which scenario was more concerning, them trying to kill each other in close quarters or potentially becoming friends.

"What about you lot then? What sort of fun will you lads be having without us?"

Cas asked Gabriel, "Is there any way we could talk Michael out of-?"

Gabriel shook his head solemnly. There was no reasoning with his eldest brother, not anymore. The Cage had broken him in an even more savage and irreparable way than it had Lucifer. It had merely made Lucifer bitter and spiteful; his deadly anger was mostly a product of the original Mark, not his imprisonment.

But Michael...

The fact that he had fallen into the Pit and wasn’t rescued immediately had snapped something in his mind. His warrior mentality was too primal, too animalistic, to comprehend what had happened. He was too angry to try and make sense of it. He was the righteous one, the sword by which the wicked were felled...how dare he be subjected to the fate he’d condemned them to? Being in his brother’s place was far beyond unacceptable…only vengeance could assuage him, even if it restarted the Apocalypse, "He’s lost it Cas. He’s not in touch with reality."

Lucifer didn’t want to believe it -his brother was infallible, perfect, that’s how he was built- but Gabriel had no cause to lie to anyone there, especially not about something like that, "Are you sure? I spent way more time down there, and I turned out fine...ish." everyone else exchanged a skeptical glance while he wasn’t looking.

Grace thought to herself the same thing as Sam muttered to Dean, “ _Is **that** what he calls it?”_

“Honestly, he always seemed a little off to me…” Dean didn’t care to keep his opinion hidden as the others did, and freely offered what he thought of Michael even with the other archangels mere feet from him, “I know I’m not exactly the poster boy for mental stability, but he was way too eager to kick-start this whole End of Days thing last time we saw him.” Sam and Cas both nodded in agreement, Dean’s brother noting that, while the two of them had their differences in the past, neither had ever truly wanted to kill the other…at least not of their own accord. Times when one or both of the Winchesters were not entirely themselves (i.e. possessed) were left out of the matter.

Lucifer still refused to give in. There had to be another way. If something happened to Michael, their father might return, but not in a way that anyone living wanted to witness. He may claim that His fallen son had been the favorite, but someone had to take his place when he got booted out, and that somebody, in his eyes, had to be the first-born archangel. If somebody messed with His precious boy, Daddy was gonna be awfully upset, “C’mon guys, don’t be so pessimistic. That’s what I’m here for. If you can reason with me after I spent a few billion years in that box, and Sam can make it out without **_permanently_** losing his marbles, why can’t we at least **_attempt_** to talk to Michael? Surely a measly few years didn’t tear him up **_that_** bad.”

The winged brothers’ eyes met again, this time with less animosity; the younger one grimaced, "He’s gone. Trust me."

Crowley seemed to pick up on what the youngest archangel was trying to imply, and decided to cut around the bush-beating and get to the point. Time wasn’t on their side as it was, there was no need to waste any trying to sugarcoat things, "So I’m going to assume that means someone is going to try and smite him before he smites us, correct?" The angels all flinched and the humans' jaws dropped with dread, "We're going to have to kill Michael?"

"Someone is...yeah."

The King of Hell tilted his head thoughtfully, “Seems simple enough…Brilliant really.” he mused, his voice oozing with its usual sarcasm and then some, “All us little fellows try to defeat the **_strongest_** **_bloody_** **_angel_** there is **_without_** the hands of the three beings that could even **_think_** about putting a mark on him…those being **_the_** Father, his aunt with the hots for Squirrel there, and one of his lunatic brothers.”

Grace saw something in the way everyone suddenly glanced at Lucifer, and laid down the law before someone could break it, “Before anybody even mentions it,” she said, “we are not using **_anyone_** as bait to catch Michael in some half-baked trap. He ain’t stupid enough to fall for that. And even if he was, we couldn’t stop him from taking them. He’d kill us all.”

“The kid’s right. I can’t fight him without blowing us all to bits because of the prophecy or whatever you want to call it,” Lucifer said, “but you guys don’t have the firepower without me…and Dad and Amara are useless if they won’t come down off Their little clouds.”

“So, what do you suggest we do then?” Castiel crossed his arms and turned to Lucifer with an irritated scowl, “You’re always scheming. Surely you have a plan.”

He wouldn’t deny **_that_** ; he tried to refrain from lying unless it was completely necessary, but he still didn’t have a plan.

Grace drummed her fingers against the table, scanned the room for helpful hints and possible ideas, and sighed. Then, her eyes landed on one of the swords perched on top of a bookcase in the corner of the next room, and in the way her mind wandered, her thoughts raced from the First Blade to powerful demons to errant angels to God and His sister… _They may not be total bumps on a log after all…_ she thought as the pieces fell together, “Would something like what you did to fight Amara work? Have everybody band together to fight him from all sides?” she offered when no one else spoke up, “I mean, Michael’s strong, yeah, but he’s not on her level, so it wouldn’t take as much effort to knock him down… if we had enough backup, maybe we could do this without destroying the entire universe.”

A wave of hope spread across the room, though it was soon clouded by doubts. Would the demons even bother with this, or would they only get involved to forward their own agendas (wait, is that even a question)? What will the other angels have to say about killing one of their most feared and respected leaders at the request of the black sheep of the flock and the runaway Trickster? How many witches would risk their lives for a couple of infamous hunters?

“Well…it’s crazy dangerous either way you spit it…” Dean replied.

“Half of our allies would be unreliable at best, not to mention treacherous at worst.” Crowley added, “Won’t say which half, of course…”

“And we have to find a way to corner Michael before we can attack him…and that won’t be easy.” Sam said.

There was a heavy silence as they regarded each other and waited for any outstanding objections. Most of what they had listed was normal operating conditions, so they’d need something a little more persuasive to totally discourage them. Gabriel brought up the possibility that some or all of them could die, which didn’t seem to affect anyone but Grace. She was, after all, technically the only person in the room that hadn’t at least once, “What else is new?” Cas scoffed. The others concurred, and decided that there were a few phone calls to make and a bit of lore-searching to be done.

And so, the fight had begun in earnest.

 

 

That night, the three newest occupants of the Men of Letters Bunker were given their own respective rooms at opposite ends of the hall. Gabriel was four doors down from Dean’s room, while Grace was on the corner of the other wall, close to the staircase. Lucifer was meant to room across the hall from her, but they all really should’ve known that he wouldn’t stay by himself for long, not when he had another option. Instead, he’d expanded her room just enough for him to sidle in and occupy the left half, using a small dresser as a divider.

Thankfully, he was still dancing around interacting with his little brother, and Gabriel was busy exploring (meaning “raiding the fridge for beer or sweets”) most of the time, so there weren’t any knock-down-drag-outs in the corridors…yet.

And Grace didn’t seem to mind having him as a roommate. Sam would never understand her tolerance for him, but of course he was a little biased on the matter. Having angel-induced insomnia and hallucinations for a few months can do that to a guy. But as long as she kept him out of trouble and out of everyone else’s hair, they could get matching tattoos for all he cared. Grace herself wasn’t bothering anyone, and her helpfulness somewhat made up for Lucifer’s presence. She even somehow persuaded him to pitch in some knowledge or suggestions on occasion with nothing more than eye contact and a muttered request. If she wasn’t ranting and raving mad, she was so soft-spoken that Sam could be standing two feet from her and not hear a thing she said.

They would have to learn to watch her eyes to catch the change from bubbly and light to sharp and dark, to listen to how unhurried her voice came out when she was calm and how her words almost slurred when she was angry, to feel the tension before she snapped. It was almost like she had a switch that she could flip on and off at will; one second she was a little darling, all friendly smiles and flower-crowns-in-your-hair sweetness… but piss her off enough and she’d turn that image on its head. Practically speaking this could be a great way to fool an adversary into underestimating her, but currently it was just confusing her allies. If you didn’t know her well, which they didn’t, it was hard to predict just when you’d pressed the wrong button a few too many times until it was too late.

Not that anybody was pushing buttons, mind you.

When she had grabbed an armful of spellbooks to leaf through – she knew all of the ones she’d brought from home by heart, they were here in case someone else (but not Rowena, “She can get her own.”) needed them- no one took the time to disturb her because they were too busy with their own pile or the laptop screen in front of them. Or both. They needed all the possible tools and strategies they could possibly dig up.

“Would the warding we used on you even hold Michael, Lucifer?”

“When I was copiloting with Castiel? Fat chance. He’d step over them while singing “Ring of Fire” or something.” He answered, not looking up from the notes he’d found tucked away in his book, “Of course we could just light some bottles of holy oil and throw them at him…” he added as Cas walked by carrying a new set of books.

“You’re still hung up on that?” Castiel huffed impatiently. Talk about holding a dumb grudge…he wasn’t even the one that got molotoved! If anybody should be upset about that incident after seven years, it would be Michael!

“I’m just glad you didn’t throw it at me.”

“I’ve had worse ideas lately.”

“Hey, **_assbutts_**. Focus.” Dean called from the other room, stealing Cas’ signature insult and nearly making Gabriel inhale the last sip in his bottle of brew because he laughed so hard at how ridiculous the word sounded. He couldn’t look at Dean or Cas for an hour after that without thinking about it. Crowley made a note aloud that Lucifer was the only one he’d ever heard Castiel call that, but Grace corrected him and said that he had said it to Michael originally…and that Cas couldn’t help it if Lucifer responded to it like it was his actual name. She got a paper ball to the head for that, which she elected to ignore only because it didn’t make her lose her spot in the book she was studying.

They relapsed into silence for a few minutes before Dean sauntered by to return his used books to the shelf, “Can’t we trap him in the Cage and blow it up or something?”

“That grenade launcher is just going to make him mad, Dean.” Sam mercilessly shot down his brother’s dream, “That’d be like shooting a bear with a pellet gun.”

“And you can’t destroy those bars from either side.” Lucifer chimed in while simultaneously building a paper airplane to throw at whoever caught his fancy, “If you could, I would’ve been a problem for you guys a long time ago.”

“We can’t drop it in some deep dark pothole down there? I mean there’s plenty of perfectly good chasms and abysses just waitin’ for a jackass-in-a-box to fall through ’em.”

“Can’t break the chains holding it up.” Gabriel said, “They tried when they pulled Michael out. All it did was shake the Cage a little.” Sam and Lucifer exchanged a glance that suggested ‘a little’ was an understatement (they got tossed around like a pair of ragdolls until the angels abandoned the first rescue attempt), but neither remarked on it. They didn’t dare agree on anything out loud.

“And we don’t have the Horsemen rings to throw him in with.” Grace doodled on the edge of the notes she had been taking. It was a habit from grade school; if she caught herself drifting off during history or math, she would scribble something to refocus herself. She was in the middle of sketching a pair of angel wings at the time, “If we’ve got something hid in here that would open and close it back, then I’m all ears.”

Crowley didn’t have anything. Sam, Dean, and Cas knew that there was nothing in the Bunker, or otherwise in their reach either. Unless…

“Dean, you don’t think the British Men of Letters might have something, do you?” Sam turned his eyes to his brother, but caught sight of Grace’s expression before Dean could respond. Her hand was frozen mid-stroke, and her pupils were about the same size as the lead in the pencil.

 “I dunno, Sam. I feel like dragging them into this is too iffy.” Dean followed his brother’s gaze to Grace after he said that. It looked like she knew something that they didn’t, which appeared to be a pattern with her, “You got something against people with accents, Grace?”

She slammed the book shut on the table, making them all jump reflexively, “Yeah, unless it’s Crowley or me, I do. Wanna know why?” everyone looked to her. Lucifer scooted his paper airplane away from her; she was likely to aim for a papercut to somebody’s jugular if she got her hands on it, “One word. **_Magda_**.”

Recognition flashed between the Winchesters, followed by fear. What was that supposed to mean? Had something happened to her? She hadn’t called since they’d left her, but they just thought she was probably busy adjusting to her new life. She was supposed to be living with an aunt or something now, but they hadn’t heard from her lately… Gabriel tilted his head in confusion, as did Lucifer. They had no idea to whom she was referring, and Crowley really didn’t either. Cas had been otherwise occupied at the time of that case, but he had been filled in later. He hadn’t thought much of it, no more than he usually thought about past cases, but now he and the boys wondered if they should have checked in on her.

“Ketch gunned her down at the first bus station she stopped at. She’s dead.” Grace said, “I’m sorry. I can deal with Rowena when she gets involved. I will deal with any deity or mythical being you can name, but if you want to bring **_them_** into this then I’m leaving. They **_cannot_** be trusted.”

Both Winchesters suddenly felt chills run across their skin knowing that they were standing in a building that belonged to the same organization, even if it was a separate branch. Sam and Dean felt the air rush out of their lungs. Silence fell like an axe on a guillotine and lingered like cigar smoke.

Well, except for Lucifer and his telepathy, “ _You do realize everyone in this room has killed somebody, right? And I’ve done worse to Sam…that’s kinda why he hates me y’know._ ”

            “ _Yeah well, you’re at least trying to make an effort to change. They aren’t._ ” she snarled at him inwardly before speaking aloud again, “Those arrogant bastards would just as soon kill us all as look at us, just because we aren’t human enough for them. Or worse even, if they wanted something from us.” She cut her eyes toward Lucifer and Gabriel specifically, implying just how eager the B.M.o.L would be to get their slimy mitts on not one, but **_two_** archangels. The horrible things they could do…the power they could wield against their enemies and rivals…

The boys decided it wasn’t worth the risk, “Sorry I asked…” Sam pushed his hair back and frowned. Another friend lost…and for what? _Sometimes I wonder why we even bother…_

            Her glare faltered and she unclenched her fist, "Don’t be. Better to find it out from somebody that’s mildly trustworthy now rather than after those rats double cross you." When asked what she meant by her being only "mildly trustworthy", Grace responded that she had been known to be a little sneaky on occasion...with good reasons and pure intentions of course, and that she knew they were all still wary of her. She was an outsider, and one with strange taste in the company she kept at that. They were afraid that her trust was misplaced, that she was too open and forgiving to the wrong person. But she knew, somehow...she was where she was meant to be.

            “Alright, then they’re definitely out of the question…if we need more hunters we can get people we know.” Cas said, “How are we going to recruit the others?”

             “Unfortunately, it’s going to take the both of us to talk all the demons we need into helping, Lucifer.” Crowley groaned, “Because half of them don’t like you, and the other half don’t like me.

            His paper airplane sailed across the room, landing on top of the book in Gabriel’s lap, eliciting an irritated huff from the youngest archangel. It flew out of his hand before he could trash it, and floated around each person individually before it came back to its owner, “Are you implying that your lackeys would attack me, and you wouldn’t stop them?” he inquired, feigning offense, “That’s pretty poor teamwork if you ask me.”

            “What I’m implying is that they would tear **_each other_** apart and we wouldn’t have anything left to work with.” Crowley shot back, “We have to set them straight on who is the enemy so they don’t take down a third of our plan in one fell swoop.”

            Lucifer shrugged; he wasn’t about to outright agree with the usurper either, “ ‘kay, so we’re calling a meeting in the throne room? All my friends, all your friends…” he inspected the paper airplane for damage, “This can’t possibly go wrong.”

            “I would tell you not to jinx it but…” Dean muttered.

            “Y’know the fanon theory is that y’all’s luck is so bad because you smashed all those mirrors to get rid of Bloody Mary.”

            “…that makes too much sense.”

            “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

"Indeed." Crowley closed his book and laid it on the shelf behind him, "Is your babysitter going to let you go without her? It’s a bit too dangerous for a human tag-along down there."

Lucifer turned to Grace with his best puppy eyes and the same pout he'd given Sam when he wouldn’t pay attention to him. She sighed and rolled her eyes toward the Winchesters and other angels for their opinions.

"I’m not worried about the little leaguers smackin’ each other around." Dean shrugged, "You two _prima donnas_ on the other hand..." He glanced pointedly between the demon and the fallen archangel.

The others nodded along. There was no way in Hell -pun notwithstanding- that these two could even make it out the door without at least a snide comment, if not a full-on fistfight. Crowley was too proud to stand insults and Lucifer was all too eager to insult him and vice versa, "I don’t like it, but if you promise to leave each other alone..." Grace started.

"Scout's honor, kid." Lucifer raised his left hand to swear to it, then switched to his right, "Whoops. I'll keep my hands to myself."

All the others turned to Crowley for his response, which was an unimpressed expression and a scoff, "Surely you're joking. I’m not stupid enough to take him on alone. The very idea..."

"Good." Cas crossed his arms, "I’d rather not have to clean you off the walls, or explain to your mother why she didn’t get to kill you herself."

"Yeah I’m sure the Wicked Bitch of the Midwest would be upset about that." Grace grumbled, rubbing her weary, stinging eyes. It was getting late, and she was starting to feel that long car trip. Her tired spirit was lifted slightly when most of the present company snickered at the nickname she'd given Rowena. Crowley seemed to especially approve...it wasn’t a genuine smile that he gave her, but it was close enough. He and Lucifer then agreed to set out as soon as possible, while Castiel and Gabriel restarted their search for ways to get the seraphs' attention without getting Michael's. The humans all agreed to turn in for the night (or morning, rather, since it was almost 2:30 by then) before they fell asleep around the table.

The boys told Grace, Cas and Gabe goodnight and disappeared down the hall without a second glance at the two “villains” in the corner. Grace, however, turned and spoke to them too before making her exit, "Y'all be careful. See you when you get back...'night." she shuffled around the table, her hand brushing Lucifer's arm lightly as she went by.

He almost cracked his neck turning around to follow her as she passed Crowley with a nod and the younger angels with a little wave. He wondered about her sometimes, in spite of her explanations... She said she was this way because her family had rejected her, because she was so different than them... she had been made an outcast just as he had. Yet she was accepting and kind, not (overly) bitter or vengeful. Angry, yeah, she was plenty of that. But she was productive with it...and not in a “total world domination” kinda way. She was going for the love & peace & unity angle.

And for all his celestial wisdom, he couldn’t wrap his head around _why_.

He shrugged it off for the time being. He could think harder about it when this was done. No use distracting himself with it now.

"Little darling, isn’t she?" Crowley remarked, "Friendly, helpful... hope she lasts longer than the others. We need a spot of sunshine around here."

"She'll be fine." Lucifer didn’t entertain any thoughts of her dying. That wasn’t possible. She had too much protection; three angels, the Winchesters, her own powers, and the most conniving demon alive would be enough to keep her safe, "Enough chitchat, let's go."

With a snap, they were back in the depths of the Pit, standing side by side in throne room, for the first time without one of them being in chains, "Guys, we're home!" Lucifer called into the darkness.


	6. Bad Company - Bad Company

The next morning, everyone’s tranquil studying in the Bunker was suddenly disrupted by the flutter of Lucifer’s wings and a string of profanity from both him and Crowley. The group gathered around the table snapped to attention as the two staggered into the room, the demon hardly able to stand and the Devil with a bloody lip and a bruise across his forehead.

"What in the blue blazin’ hell happened to you two?!" Grace nearly knocked her chair over trying to get to them, but she wasn’t sure who to go to first. Cas and Dean got Crowley into a chair so he wouldn’t collapse, so she was left with the peeved archangel, "Who’d you two get into it with?" her first thought, and everyone else’s, was that they’d fought each other, but given that they were both still standing lent little credence to that theory.

"Y’know those demons we were supposed to recruit?" Lucifer muttered, wiping his lip a little harder than necessary.

"They didn’t agree?"

"Oh no, they did. I just had to knock some of them around for jumping on him."

Cas backed away from Crowley, who was swatting him and Dean away, insisting he was fine even though he looked like he’d been hit by a bus, "Why did they attack Crowley?"

"Because it was a bunch of his bloody loyalists." Crowley snarled, "Didn’t even give us a chance to explain before they nearly killed me."

"Who got you then?" Dean looked at Lucifer’s wounds suspiciously.

He shook his head and told them that he'd thrown one of the demons into the wall so hard that it had knocked some of the wall loose, and it had knocked him in the head, "Once I got them settled down, I told them what was up and they agreed to help us take Michael down."

Sam regarded him skeptically, "Yeah? Under what conditions?" There was always a catch with demons, crossroad variety or otherwise. They didn’t do anything for free.

Lucifer smirked, more than happy to correct that assumption, "I didn’t give them that option, Sam. They either said yes, or said their last words."

Crowley chuckled darkly, "I would say I was impressed, but I couldn’t see or hear a damn thing. Hard to be observant when you aren’t fully conscious, you know."

"Oh please..." With a dramatic sigh, Lucifer reached over Grace to place a finger to his rival’s forehead and heal the deep gashes and clear his face of blood so hopefully he'd stop complaining. He left the smaller scrapes and bruises; he wasn’t doing everything around here, "You’re welcome." He added awkwardly, "I didn’t **_have_** to save your ass..."

The King of the Crossroads wasn’t sure how to react to that, or the fact that Lucifer had stopped the other demons in the first place. He was grateful, mind you, but at the same time he was worried. The Devil never does anything for free either... where do you think the demons learned that from?

"Well that’s one side down at least. Hopefully." Sam said, "What about the other angels? Will there even be enough of them that still have power?"

Gabriel chewed the inside of his lip, "I hadn’t thought about that...I mean Dad started calling some of them back not long before I left, but I don’t know how strong they are now..." as soon as he saw his brother's face, he regretted his choice of words.

The mood took a sharp nosedive from optimistic to bitter disappointment when Lucifer spoke again, "He what?" Gabriel didn’t answer him; he didn’t have to. He just looked at him piteously, "Oh. I see." They all waited for the light bulbs to burst and for books to start flying across the room, but neither happened. Sam and Grace could see the vein in his temple, and how tightly his jaw was locked. Sam turned his attention back to Gabriel to hide his pity. Grace slid closer to Lucifer, her arm brushing against his. He didn’t look at either of them or any of the others.

Dean was the one to break the silence, "I don’t guess there’s any way to ask anybody Upstairs is there?"

"Well besides praying, no, and I don’t know that anyone can hear us anyway." Gabriel scratched the back of his neck, "Things are still pretty jacked up at home. I didn’t get any of the prayers directed at me until I came down. Angel Radio is all out of whack between here and there, it goes in and out."

"So looks like we'll be dealing with the leftovers. If we can catch them before they get picked up from preschool, that is." What Crowley wouldn’t give for some scotch right now...and it looked like everyone else felt the same.

"But how do we find them without getting Michael's attention?" Sam asked, "He'll hear if you call them." Some of them were willing to take that risk if it meant this would be over faster, but none that held that sentiment were angels. They knew exactly what to expect if he were to catch them. Gabriel revealed that they had found a way to call angels that didn’t involve the broader Radio waves, but they would have to call each of them individually…and that was after they managed to figure out who was still on Earth and who wasn’t. And who was still alive. And willing to help.

"You two should get on that ASAP then. They’ll prob'ly take longer to convince too…" Dean suggested, "Grace, you should start calling around to anybody with magic that can help. We’ll grab Rowena."

She nodded in agreement before they all noticed the emptiness beside her. Lucifer had disappeared, _"Where are you?"_

“Where’d he go?”

_"Good to know **you** care enough to notice me missing." _

_"Luc…"_

_"I’m in our room."_ He finally answered. Then there was a pause, " _I didn’t leave. I’m not running away."_

 _"I know..."_ she told him, “He’s still here… He went upstairs.” she told them. It irked her a bit that they automatically assumed that he had gone rogue or something, but she tried to keep herself focused on the task at hand rather than their (granted, somewhat) justifiable prejudices. A few moments after the meeting in the war room was over, she pushed the door to their bunk open and found him slumped on his bed, staring listlessly at a book they had both read 3 times each with no success. He wasn’t even holding it open to a specific page, "Did He even look for me at all, I wonder?"

Grace shut the door behind her and sat down beside him silently. Her head eventually dropped onto his shoulder, and he didn’t move to push her away. He closed the book after a while, and decided wallowing in self-pity was best done lying down, so he curled onto one side with his back against the cold wall and laid there. Grace rolled onto her stomach beside him and sent messages to all of her friends and their covens in hopes of drumming up some help. Neither spoke for quite some time, and he fell asleep unintentionally. She let him. He needed it.

" _Chuck. I hope you can hear all of this. I hope you hear me. I hope you hear Sam and Dean. I hope you hear your sons_." She stared up at the ceiling as if He were there in the room looking down at them.

" _I hope you know what’s happening, and I hope you have a **damn** good reason for not helping us._” She glanced over at the sleeping archangel; he looked so...normal. He could be anybody, any ordinary man. But, unfortunately for him, he wasn’t, “ _We can’t do everything down here. We need you._ "

" _Please hear me._ " She pleaded before laying her head on her arms and waiting for a miracle...from Heaven or here on Earth.

 

 

She started awake at the sound of her name and her phone buzzing against the mattress two hours later. She didn’t even remember closing her eyes…all she had to tell her that she had fallen asleep were the afterimages of the dreams she had. Just little snippets of different scenes here and there. She hadn’t had a memorable dream in a while; she didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign…

“For someone who was sleeping like that, your mind was running full-steam.”

“Like what?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and running her fingers through her hair.

            “You were dead to the world. Your phone hasn’t shut up for half an hour now, and I’ve tried to wake you twice. You haven’t moved since I woke up.” That couldn’t have been too long ago, she mused, judging by the state of his hair on one side. Although she was beginning to wonder if that’s just how his hair looked; fuzzy and unkempt, “What were you thinking so hard about in your sleep?"

She paused, and for the first time noticed Lucifer's arm casually lying beside hers. With little hesitation, she propped herself up on her elbows and reached over to trace the lines on the back of his hand, "I was dreaming about what y’all remind me of...places, things, whatever." 

While her touch startled him at first, he didn’t shrink away from her like she thought he would. Sam could’ve told her from personal experience, once he gets used to you Lucifer was clingy in the worst way, and craved all the attention he could get. He just wasn’t used to getting **_positive_** attention, "Tell me."

She took a deep breath and tried to remember, "Sam and Dean are the road. Always going somewhere new. They never really settle down for long, but they always know how they can find home again..."

He nodded while she drew straight lines from his fingers to his wrists, "Crowley...he's like a library or a study in an old mansion...I pictured books everywhere, and it was dark. Except for a fireplace." She traced little squiggles for flames, "He's cold on the outside, but if you get further inside, closer to the fire, it’s not so bad." He wasn’t Crowley’s biggest fan by a long shot, but he could see where she might get that vibe from him. The would-be king was more humane than anyone in the Bunker was willing to admit, especially Crowley himself.

"Gabriel is a carnival. Never know when or where you'll find him, and he's gone when you turn around, but that’s part of the fun." She drew what looked like a cloud on a stick (it was cotton candy) and then laughed, "And damned if he doesn’t eat the most sugar I’ve ever seen one man take in." Lucifer nodded in agreement, chuckling to himself.

"Cas...well he likes parks and animals and nature stuff so that’s what I thought of for him.” He had noticed that when they occupied the same vessel; it was the one thing the two had in common, and it had shocked them both, “He's always there for everyone else...but he hardly looks after himself. He needs somebody to look after him too, and he needs to let them. He can’t hold everything together by himself forever." She drew a flower, for lack of any better ideas.

"But he'll try. He's stubborn. Runs in the family."

"Oh believe me, I’ve noticed." She teased. He stuck his tongue out at her in retaliation, " ** _Wow_** , okay, how old are you again?" She added playfully, and he rolled his eyes.

"Old enough. What about me? You've said everybody else." 

"You..." She chewed her lip, "Gatlinburg reminds me of you." He tilted his head, wanting her to explain, "It’s full of flashy tourist junk, but there are some really good places that are hidden unless you know where to look." She drew little mountains across his hand, "There’s more to you than everyone wants to think there is."

"It scares them to think how much I might be like them...” He laid his hand over hers, and she let him. Hers was warm and soft, like a quilt left out in the sunlight. His was rough and cold, like rocks beneath a river. They both held power that the other could sense, and weakness too, “The best villains are the ones you see yourself in…"

"It scares you too." He had always thought humanity was weakness; mercy and compassion were never directed at him, so he never felt either toward anyone. He didn’t want to care about her, in spite of all her kindness, but he was starting to feel it in the back of his mind.

"Does it scare you, Gracie? That we might be alike?" He meant it jokingly, if a little cynically. She was right, whether he chose to acknowledge it or not.

"No, it doesn’t."   

"Why not?" He asked.

“Guess I’m just a crazy fangirl…” She smirked and shrugged, “And I guess it was you singing _Achy Breaky Heart_ like your life depended on it that told me you aren’t as scary as **_you_** think you are.”

“ ** _That_**? That’s what gave me away?” He looked over at her in disbelief and muttered, “Damn you, Billy Ray Cyrus.”

She neglected to tell him that she had recorded part of his “performance”, and instead chose to spend most of the next few hours responding to messages and making arrangements while he returned the books that didn’t belong to her to the library.

 

 

It was midnight when they re-emerged from their little corner of the Winchester's safe haven with the good news, "Guys, I got 3 covens to definitively agree to help!" Grace announced excitedly, "And they all have 7-plus members."

Sam and Dean congratulated her on her efforts, while silently wondering what her partner in crime had been up to all this time. His expression wasn’t quite as despondent, so he must’ve done something...or he was planning to, "They're working on a backup spell and two to bolster whatever Rowena did last time." Lucifer added almost cheerily, which was just as unsettling as his sulking, "I guess they don’t want us to flub this one up, huh?"

"Speak fer yerself, Luc'fer." From the opposite corner of the room, Rowena appeared wearing a disgustingly smug grin, "I did my part in fighting the Darkness...wha'bout you? You didn’ even stay fer the whole show." She teased, toying with a knife that was on the table. 

Everyone waited on him to snap back, or for him to sling her through the wall, but he didn’t get a chance to defend himself. That’s what Grace was there for, "Oh yeah, 'cause you single-handedly convinced Amara not to blow us all to Kingdom Come. Oh wait..." she paused and turned to the Winchesters, "That was Dean, y’know, that saved our bacon there. I could go on down the list if you want... "

Rowena squinted suspiciously at the unfamiliar witch, who returned the gaze with an unimpressed sneer. "And you are?"

"Me? I’m the one who fixed your latest botched idea." Grace stepped back to Lucifer's side, and his arm snaked around her shoulders both to show his growing affection and to keep her from physically biting Rowena's head off. Not that that wouldn’t make everyone in the building slightly happier...

"You think you **_fixed_** something by helping him?" Rowena took a menacing step toward her, and Grace only moved back because she was pulled. Their eyes never left each other’s.

"Well it hasn’t hurt anything yet." Dean said, "I’m not joining his fanclub of one over there, but under the circumstances I’d rather have him on our side than just running loose and unaccounted for."

"Aw, I knew you guys would warm up to me." Lucifer rolled his eyes and grinned over Grace's head at the older witch, "So in other words, Red, keep your paws off. I’m spoken for."

"Oh believe me yer highn'ss...I'll be stayin' far away from **_you_**!" She whipped around to chew Sam and Dean out for dragging her into this mess **_again_** just as Gabriel stuck his head in and beckoned for Lucifer, saying he and Cas needed help summoning the other angels. Rowena was distracted by the appearance of yet another attractive man in the Bunker, and temporarily forgot her beef with her "ex" and his new bff, "My, my, so many new faces hereabouts..." she batted her eyelashes at him and earned herself a playful wink in return.

The flirtation was short-lived, however, as the two archangels disappeared down the hall together soon after...leaving the humans to themselves, "Behave yourselves ladies..." Lucifer lilted before he made his exit. He missed the four incredulous expressions that followed him out the door.

"Practice what you preach bro." Gabriel chided him, and continued to the room where Cas was waiting without giving his big brother the courtesy of pausing.

"You're one to talk, **_Loki_**." Gabriel didn’t say anything back, "I’m surprised you both called me to help. I figured you’d still be mad at me..."

"Oh trust me, I am, but we can’t do everything just because you want to go off and pout."

The oldest angel bit back the snarling reply that bubbled up in the back of his throat; he had never wanted to hurt his brothers... but he did what he felt he had to do. Yeah, he was selfish, brutal, and cold, but he hadn’t known anything else for so long. He hadn’t seen any other way, no matter how obvious the alternatives might have been to someone else. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have known how to take them. The right thing wasn’t his forte. And he regretted every second of it, "I know that."

"Great."

He cleared his throat as they came through the door; he decided to get something off his chest before they did anything alone in the same room for any length of time. If he didn’t clear the air now, there was a strong (well, strong ** _er_** ) possibility of a fight with all the tension floating around. Cas looked up briefly from his work, "Guys, I’m...oh boy, here it goes…I’m…sorry. For what I did to you."

"You should be." Gabe snapped, his tone laced with anger and regret of his own.

Lucifer flinched and turned to the youngest angel after Gabriel didn’t accept him and found Castiel only slightly more understanding to his plight. Cas' face remained stoic, the only indication he had even heard him was the slight tilt of his head. He was surprised that he was being **_honestly_** apologetic, that he **_really_** meant he was sorry. _What’s changed, I wonder?_ Cas finally spoke up to diffuse the building tension, "Well...we all have things we want to be forgiven for... I suppose this is as good a start toward that as any." _But this will be a long road, especially for him… I just hope he stays on it long enough to make some sort of difference._

"You accept my apology then?"

Cas nodded hesitantly, going back to drawing the summoning sigils, "For what happened between you and I, yes. Some of that was my doing too. And I am far more concerned about our current problems than I am with, well, bickering.” He pointedly glanced over to Gabriel, but he also made reference to the other occupants of the Bunker, “I can’t speak for anyone else though…you’ll have to talk to the others yourself."

Crowley and Rowena he wasn’t worried about appeasing. They were just as bad as he was, if not worse. He didn’t know if he’d personally offended Dean, aside from what he’d done to Sam and Cas, but he decided he might as well add him to the “to apologize to” list just in case. And he had kinda stuck up for him earlier, in his own way…Sam would most likely break down and forgive him eventually -the boy was too forgiving, if Lucifer was totally honest with himself- if he minded his Ps and Qs and didn’t become a royal pain in the ass (as was often his custom). Gabriel would be a little tougher to crack…he had **_killed_** his brother after all, and it’s kinda hard to come back from that. But a lot of this bridge-mending would have to take a backseat to getting Michael out of the way.

“I’ll get around to that…” he eyed the sigils written around them, “So what do I need to do now?”

“Draw these sigils, and write the angels’ names under it in Enochian. It’ll get their attention without broadcasting it to everyone else.” Gabriel explained tersely, offering him a notebook with several names scrawled across the pages, “Tell them this meeting place and time, and explain what’s up if they don’t already know. If they’re down here, then they probably don’t have a clue.”

Anticipating the question that formed immediately following this explanation, Cas turned again to the other angels, “It’ll be warded so that only the angels with their names written on the walls can get in. They have to agree to meet with us first, and even if they betray us, no one outside that list can get in.”

“Swell. A VIP party for the guys and gals from Up Top.” He took the list and examined it, trying to recall the faces that belonged to the names. It had been so long since he’d seen most of the lower choir angels that he probably wouldn’t recognize most of them. But they would know him… He sighed, taking up the piece of chalk on the table and finding a clear space on the wall, “Will I be making a special appearance at this shindig? Don’t want to scare them off, now do we?” he was only half-joking, and was fully hoping the answer would be no. Him plus that many angels, no matter how much weaker they were than him, could lead to more trouble than it would be worth, and it might jeopardize them getting the help they need.

“That’s up to you. They can suck it up or leave if it bothers them that much.” Gabriel returned to his station, “If you wanna be a good guy, you gotta play with the other good guys too, not just us. I mean unless you’re busy ‘wrestling with your demons’…literally or metaphorically speaking.”

“I think Crowley and I settled the _literal_ wrestling business…” he was glad he still had his healing abilities, otherwise he would still be sore and bruised from that whole debacle, “And the metaphorical ones, I can handle.”

“Really? ‘Handling it’ isn’t exactly what I’d call your coping methods.” Gabriel remarked coldly, tossing his chalk down onto the table and turning back around, “I might’ve died, lost a pair of wings, but at least I came back. A lot of people lost more.”

He didn’t say it all out loud; they were all thinking it…

_Sam and Dean have died so many times. And Castiel too._

_People they love are gone forever. Innocent people._

_All because of this prophecy._

_Because of us._

_Enough is enough._

“I-I…” Lucifer stuttered, then sighed. He wanted to say, _I’d give it all back to you and them if it meant this would be over with soon. I’d give it all back to fix this, to have things back how they were before,_ but what came out was, “I know, Gabe, and I’m **_sorry_** …and I know there’s nothing I can do to **_really_** fix what I’ve done. But dammit, I’m **_trying_**. I am so tired of this endless cycle, but you’re gonna have to help me end it.”

“You had every chance to change your own mind that night, and every night before and after. But no.” Gabriel snarled,  “You were too proud to ask me for help then. You were too proud to admit you needed anyone when you knew you did-"

“Well I’m asking for it **_now_**. I’m saying I need you **_now_**.”

A suffocating hush fell as one angel debated starting a fistfight to vent the rest of his frustration and another debated walking away to prevent one. The help he could offer wasn’t worth the hurt he could cause by staying; Lucifer would find something else to do if he had to. Their thoughts swam with rage and grief and homesickness and fear. They were glad they didn’t have to breathe, otherwise the uneven rhythm of their lungs would have given away more emotion than their pained expressions already did.

One angel kept writing and tried not to display his impatience; somebody had to keep this operation afloat while the other two squabbled but he wasn’t about to do everything by himself all night. He waited for the silence to break.

“Alright.” Gabriel finally said, “Fine. I’ll help you. But you helping **_us_** doesn’t put you square with **_me_**. I get to decide when **_we_** are even. Got it?”

“Of course…”

 

 

            The next morning was a busy one. Crowley left sometime in the night to organize the demons more definitely; he asked Lucifer if he wanted to come along, but he had decided to join the angels’ efforts instead, “As much as I enjoyed our bonding, Fergus, I think my appearance last time got the message across.”

            “Yeah, well if they ruin this suit it’ll be on your head.”

            “If you say so.”

Grace and Rowena had arranged a meeting of the covens all while hurling insults back and forth, Sam later informed those who weren’t present, “that put us to shame”. Surprisingly, only one hex had been uttered that entire night, and it was aimed at the older witch by the younger. Not so surprisingly, it was a silencing spell. Rowena had vowed vengeance, but had yet to act on it. She had also yet to figure out how to break the hex, but that was because, as Grace explained, that particular spell had to wear off. Most of the present company had asked her at least once to teach them how to use it on someone else in the present company.

The Winchesters had called as many hunters as they could think of to warn them of the impending danger. They didn’t expect to take on any volunteers from their sector, and refused any who offered. The boys only called to forward protective warding sigils and spells to those who might be endangered, not to drum up another battalion. They also called Mary, and left messages, but their mother never replied. Hadn’t in a while…but she was strong. She’d be okay without them…

The angels had gone through their list, and were on their way out the door to speak to their crowd in person at the same time as the witches, “Try not to get beat up this time,” Grace warned Lucifer, as well as the other two, “by yourself or anyone else.” Gabriel assured her that if anyone would be kicking his brothers’ butts that day, it’d be him. Apparently his promise to try and get back on good terms with the eldest of the three had reawakened the fallen one’s “playful older brother” side, and he’d been teasing his little brother relentlessly ever since. Castiel got lumped into it because he didn’t stop him, and he dared to laugh a few times.

            “You be careful as well…keep in touch if you can.” Cas returned the warning as everyone with phones exchanged numbers, casting a subtle glance at her partner for the day. Grace assured him that she would keep an eye on Crowley’s mother, as she didn’t trust her as far as she could see her, much less as far as she could throw her, “I’ll try to keep those two out of trouble. They’ve been fine so far, except for last night…it got a little heated.”

            “I figured as much. At least they didn’t tear the Bunker apart…” She shook her head and dug her keys out of her cloak pocket; this was a formal last-minute gathering, so more “traditional” attire was required…as in hooded capes and corsets. Shoes were not required, however, “Good luck, Cas. You’ll need it.”

            “Don’t I know it…”

 

 

As anticipated, several seraphs balked at the sight of the second-oldest archangel, some flying (pun unintended) into a borderline panic before anything could be explained. Gabriel had to flash them with his true form to get them to settle down while he told them what was up, and even then they were incredibly antsy. Lucifer wasn’t much better off, he was just better at hiding his nerves.

“If we work ** _with_** Lucifer, won’t we be working **_against_** Michael?

“And against our father?”

“ _Duh_ …” he muttered from the back corner. Gabriel elbowed him and told him to cork it.

“Michael is just doing what was foretold…”

“You live here on this planet right now, don’t you?” Gabriel asked, and the angels all nodded in response, “Well if our eldest brother does ‘what was foretold’ with the Gates shut, we’ll all be trapped here when the world goes **_boom_**. Now I don’t know about you guys, but I’d like to live a few more millennia before I permanently bite it.”

“And I have helped before y’know, with Amara.” Lucifer interjected.

“But she wasn’t evil.”

“At the moment, neither is he.” Cas defended Lucifer, who tried to hide his astonishment, “A few months ago a team of wild horses couldn’t have dragged him in here to help us. But he volunteered to help stop the Apocalypse Round 1,208 or whatever this would be…”

“Michael has changed as well, for the worse.” Gabriel added, “I saw him. I saw what the Cage did to him, and if we don’t stop him soon, that’s what we will be living with, what we’ll die with as our legacy.”

There was a considerable amount of muttering and mumbling among the assembly before anyone spoke to the three ringleaders again. Or, more accurately, to Lucifer, “And if we say no?”

“As long as you don’t jump on the other team or otherwise interfere, no hard feelings.” Of course, he was exaggerating that just a tad. He imagined the others would be just a little upset if they lost because there weren’t enough hands on-deck, but he knew what they were expecting him to say. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a threat, “I’ll probably be the first one dead if we lose this, so you won’t have to worry about me comin’ after you in that case. But if we win and I’m still kickin’, I’ll be busy celebrating.” He could practically hear those cinnamon rolls calling him all the way from Tennessee; Grace had kick-started a junk food addiction rivalled only by those of the oldest Winchester and the youngest archangel. She would pay for that.

More muttering. Some of the angels simply shook their heads and vanished to indicate they weren’t interested; Cas made notes of who left and who stayed on, and all of them prayed what was left would be enough.          

“Well, we did better than I thought…less than half of them walked out.” Gabriel remarked offhandedly, “Alright, here’s what we’re-”

Every window in the abandoned orphanage shattered, blown inward by an unseen explosion. Most of the angels were knocked off their feet by the sheer surprise of the attack, and those who remained standing soon cowered in fear of the voice that rang in their ears.

“ ** _YOU DARE TO DEFY OUR FATHER?! DESERTERS! TRAITORS ALL OF YOU!_** ” Michael roared from outside, turning everyone’s blood to ice-water, “ ** _YOU ARE ALL OF YOU VENOMOUS SERPENTS, AND YOU SHALL BE SLAIN FOR YOUR TREASON!_** ”

Lightning and thunder crashed all around them, disorienting and deafening. They tried to protect each other, but that was nearly impossible when they couldn’t even see their hands in front of their faces, or hear their own thoughts. Only Gabriel and Lucifer could even remotely get their bearings and herd the others away from the outside, and they struggled to do that much.

“We have to get them out of here!” Lucifer yelled over the gale, “If he kills them all, our team’s screwed whether we live or not!”

Gabriel nodded, then turned to the choir behind them, “Draw your blades! When I say go, you fly as fast as you can to Lebanon, Kansas. Don’t wait for us, find the Winchesters!”

“What if none of us make it?”

“What if Michael catches you?”

“How can-?”

The front door flew off its hinges, crashing to the ground a few feet away.

A few of the angels that had left earlier returned and revealed their reason for refusing.

One of them, no one saw exactly who, scratched out one of the runes keeping the unwelcome out.

And the unwelcome came in…


	7. Safe & Sound - Taylor Swift & The Civil Wars

Meanwhile, Grace and Rowena approached the coven's meeting house, the dark-haired witch walking ahead of the redhead, "Just let me handle this. I’ve known most of these people longer than you’ve been around Sam and Dean. Or Crowley for that matter." She hadn’t missed an opportunity to comment on Rowena’s mothering, but she had yet to strike a nerve with it. It’s hard to offend someone with something they already know.

"Are you implying that your wee friends migh' not trust me?"

Grace stopped short of the door and whipped around to face her companion, nearly making Rowena run into her, "I’m not **_implyin’_** anything. I’m flat-out tellin' you. **_I_** don’t trust you."

The elder witch didn’t pretend to be offended by this either; she couldn’t care less about what anyone else thought of her, especially this little wisp of a girl, but that certainly wouldn’t stop her from antagonizing Grace, "Watch your tone lass. Our feathered friend isn’t here to-" the spell was out of Grace’s mouth before Rowena could react, and she found herself getting dizzy and lightheaded like she had a bit too much whiskey.

Grace turned again, her eyes smoldering violet like a dying gas flame, "I don’t need protecting from you. All I need is a little provocation, and I can take care of myself..." she hissed before releasing her from the hex. She was starting to wish she’d applied another silencing spell before they left. If it wasn’t Rowena bumping her gums the whole trip, it was these weird little snippets of other voices suddenly flashing through her head. They had stopped before the girls reached their destination, but they still unsettled her. The voices had sounded garbled and muffled, but familiar still…she just couldn’t make out who it was or what they were saying. She thought she heard her name a few times, but it wasn’t clear enough to tell. She tried to ignore the instinct to text Cas and check up on them, even though it gnawed at her relentlessly.

They stepped through the door without further incident...more or less. The meeting with the covens went smoothly; spells and the overall situation were exchanged and explained in more detail than was conveyable through phones. One group had found binding runes strong enough to hold entire choirs of angels (they hadn’t personally tested it of course, but it was written in the instructions) and another had figured out how to create holy fire without the mess of the rare oil. Some of the loners had procured angel blades and had melted them into a longer, more practical sword. No one wanted to question how they’d come by enough regular angel blades for this (standing on its tip, the sword came up to Graces shoulder and she had to hold it with both hands to lift it), nor who had found an archangel dagger which both Lucifer and Gabriel failed to mention was even missing (and Grace thought she was bad about forgetting things!), and no one volunteered the stories either. Those misadventures were a tale for another day...

The sword wasn’t even the main plan; it was the backup in case the spells couldn’t stop Michael. It would then be up to someone in the main war party to physically take him out...though who would wield "Morning Glory" as Grace dubbed it, had not been decided. They supposed it would be whoever got to it first in the midst of the fight, or whoever happened to be holding it if (when) their intended target broke loose. They decided to let the boys sort it out among themselves when they got back to the Bunker, as it wouldn’t likely be either of them doing the blade swinging.

Grace dug her cellphone out of her cape’s pocket to call the Winchesters and the angels and let them know their part was done, but Rowena grabbed her arm before she could hit ‘dial’. Confused and startled by how cold her grip was, she jerked away at just the right angle to see why she wanted her attention. A black SUV was parked just out of the porchlight’s reach, but its headlights still caught its reflection and gave it away. When the realization hit the two, they again latched onto each other and slipped into the bushes. Luckily for them, Ketch and Mick both turned their heads at the same time that they exited the front door.

“Is that the-?”

“Bloody Men of Letters.” Rowena spat, “I knew those fools would show up eventually…”

“Well thanks for telling me!” Grace hissed back, “How did they find us?!”

“Probably tracking somebody else here, the nosy little bastards.”

“We need to warn the others…” it was difficult to tell if the Letters were watching the house now, but it was a risk that had to be taken. The witches in the house could not be abandoned to these murderers, “If they come towards the house, stall them as long as you can…I’m going back inside.” She crouched below the hedges and inched toward the side of the house.

“What about the sword? Y’gonna stab them with it?” Rowena jabbed her finger at the car just as they heard its front doors creak open and slam closed.

“I don’t want to dull the blade on those two…and they shouldn’t get that close to me.” Grace snapped, and the sword was spirited into the trunk of her car, “If they do, I’ll send them back your way.” She stealthily crept around back and slipped in the unlocked door. She didn’t bother sneaking around once she got in.

“Forget something?”

“Nope. We’ve got more company, the uninvited kind.” She started gathering things into boxes and sending them to safety, out of Mick and Ketch’s reach into the warded cellar, “Brace for impact. I don’t expect Rowena can hold those two off, or that she will.”

“Who?”

“British Men of Letters. They call themselves monster hunters, but they’re really just a pack of-”

The door burst open, and Mick stepped inside, gun full of witch-killing bullets drawn and Ketch on his heels. Both were a little worse for wear – Rowena had tried at least- but were still standing and mildly perturbed about the situation.

“A pack of what?” Ketch sneered, his own weapon leveled at her.

“ _Lucifer, we need help. Now. Please._ ” There was no response, which wasn’t comforting regardless of her situation, “ _Castiel? Gabriel?_ ” still nothing. They would have to handle this alone.

            “What’s the matter, familiar suddenly got your tongue, little witch?” his attention was so focused on her, and Mick’s on the other witches across the room from him, that they didn’t hear anyone come up behind them until the dead language had already filled Ketch’s ears and he fell quicker than London Bridge.

            “It’s ‘ _cat_ got your tongue’, jackarse.”

            Grace wanted to bark, “Took you long enough!” at Rowena, but with Mick slinging bullets she didn’t get the chance right away. Spells started flying like the lead from the gun, but the only thing anybody hit was the furniture and the books on the shelves. Ketch got hit once or twice, but in his current state he didn’t really notice (he would definitely feel it the next day, however).

            It took several stunning spells to finally knock Mick off his feet, but only a direct hit from both Rowena and Grace to really knock his lights out.

            “Should we…?” an ominous look passed around the room, but no one wanted that blood on their own hands. They wouldn’t sink to their victim’s level.

            “What’re we gonna do with them if we don’t?”

            “Anybody got a really big trunk on their car? Or drive a truck?” Grace nudged Ketch’s head with the toe of her boot. She (briefly) resisted the urge to “nudge” him a little harder, “Anybody got some shovels?”

            Much to the dismay of the more bloodthirsty members of the covens, one of the witches drove an El Camino, and he volunteered to toss the Brits in the back and dump them somewhere in the woods on his way home. Rowena was placated when someone else tied their shoelaces together and handcuffed Mick’s wrist to his beltloop and Ketch’s to his ankle and didn’t leave the key. And when their guns were melted into one giant lump, their phones smashed beyond repair. Their car was pushed into a trash ditch behind the house and burned. The B.M.o.L should have been grateful they weren’t inside it, but when they met an equally fiery fate at Michael’s hands, they couldn’t help but wish the witches had been a little less merciful.

 

 

Grace had never been so happy to see a building as she was when the Bunker finally came into view. She knew better than to speed down a gravel road, but after surviving that ordeal with the B.M.o.L, she figured she would be alright just this once. Rowena couldn’t agree more; what would a little danger hurt now? “Bloody barbarians. Think they c’n just barge in wherever they damn well please.” She grumbled, “Didn’t know saving the damned world was a crime.”

“Us existing is a crime to them. We aren’t **_really_** human, remember?” Grace whipped Cloud into the garage angrily.

“Jealousy is what it is. Puuure, ugly jealousy.” Rowena gathered up the books and bags of ingredients they had salvaged from the attack, leaving her driver to get the sword and the door, “They can’t have our powers fer themselves, so we can’t have’m either.

Grace huffed in agreement, draping the cloth-wrapped sword across her shoulders. They hoped that the angels had less problems with their recruitment process. The team couldn’t take too many more blows before the actual fight, “Well, at least the _Downton Abbey_ rejects didn’t get our stuff. I’d hate to know what kind of trouble we’d cause them if they got their mitts on something important.”

Rowena rolled her eyes, “Oh no you wouldn’. You’d love every minute of turning the boys loose on those smarmy little ninnies.”

“Yeah you’re prob’ly right. Guys, we’re back!” Grace called through the hallway, not expecting to be met with a panicked Dean, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s- the angels and, and- just c’mon we need you to look at this.”

Grace didn’t care for clarification; she bolted down the hall with the sword still in her hands, calling for their winged comrades. Sam answered, which only served to worry her more. She finally found them all in one of the bunks, circled around a first aid kit.

Cas had several cuts across his face and shoulders; they weren’t deep, but there were a bunch of them. Lucifer was bruised mostly, but there was one gash down his neck and a few more across his hand, arm and his stomach…obviously defensive wounds. Gabriel was the worst off. He’d been stabbed and cut. None of them were healing.

“Is this why you didn’t answer me?!” she cried out, “What happened to you?!”

“Michael beat us to some of the angels.” Cas told Grace as she fussed over them and magicked their wounds away (Lucifer protested the healing, but once she caught him by his torn collar there was no escaping without taking a swing at her), “They snuck in, pretended to be on our side…and then…”

“Was he there? Michael?”

“Just missed him…they planned to ambush us and let him in.” Lucifer muttered, resisting the urge to reopen his wounds. How could they have been so careless? “G-Gabe took one that was meant for me…I-I tried to stop him but…” As he stared down at his brother, his eyes glassed over and he choked back a growl or a sob, no one could quite tell. He’d hurt him so many times now…with his own hands and by failing to protect him from someone else’s. There was no way he’d be forgiven now. And he’d tried.

The younger archangel, though barely conscious, groaned in disagreement, “Quit beating yourself up over it, I’m not dead yet.”

“And you won’t be any time soon, if I can help it.” Grace sat on the edge of the bed beside him, “Why isn’t it healing by itself, Gabriel?”

“Angel blade…cuts heal slower…a lot slower.”

Sam moved over but didn’t get up, “There’s something up with these cuts though. The inside is…”

“Black…” she stretched her hands out and held them just over his skin, feeling for anything below the surface that was amiss. After a moment, she locked onto something in his system, and her hands started trembling violently. Gabriel jolted to full consciousness and gasped in agony, “Sorry sweetheart. That’s demon blood…strong demon blood and a lot of it…” Grace let go, and the broken angel shuddered from the shock of the pain. With an equally pained frown, she laid her hand on his head and he suddenly went slack.

“What did you just-?” Lucifer panicked and went rigid; Cas had to grab him so he wouldn’t throttle whoever got within his reach.

“I put him to sleep temporarily so he doesn’t have to feel all of that. Poor thing…” she smoothed his hair back from his eyes, “It’ll take me a few hours, but I should be able to run all of it out of his bloodstream faster than it would get out on its own. It won’t be fun though…”

That seemed to interest Rowena who had appeared in the doorway, “Meaning?”

Grace stood, “I’ll heal these cuts first, to keep his vessel from getting damaged any further. Then I’ll make one to draw the demon blood from. I’ll have to give him a break in between though, so the pain isn’t too much to bear.”

Dean seemed a little perplexed by her plan, if not downright suspicious, “So you’re going to drag this out instead of taking it all in one go?”

She snapped her head to face him, “Have you ever had demon blood in you, Dean? Just the blood, not the twisted soul that goes with it? Do you know what that feels like, when it doesn’t belong?” his eyes flickered to Sam, and Grace’s followed, “I bet you wish you could’ve gotten breaks, huh? You wish you’d had some kind of relief, right?” He nodded.

Lucifer didn’t seem to need any further convincing, “Alright, fine. Just, don’t…”

“I won’t.” she reassured him, “Let him rest for now. I’ll come back after we get sorted out.” Before she turned to pick the sword back up, she drew a blanket up to his shoulders to keep the coolness of the bunker from his bare skin, “One of you needs to stay with him until I come back, just in case though.” His older brother, of course, volunteered to assuage his guilt. He should’ve protected him and the other angels better. He didn’t want to know how many they lost on the way out…

Sam didn’t question this, and in spite of his obvious exhaustion he told Lucifer to wake him if Gabriel started hallucinating or otherwise acting strange. He, after all, had experience in dealing with this sort of thing. And Lucifer was the most familiar with Gabriel himself, “Stranger than he usually acts, you mean?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’m not dea ** _f_** either, y’know…”

 

 

After the sword was placed in a safe along with the spell items the remaining angels were quartered away from the legion of demons Crowley had called (what was left of the legions anyway, after some had been lost to Michael’s angels) to prevent any internal strife. Several hours passed without incident, except for the lights flickering and ground trembling while Grace drew out the poison in Gabriel. Fortunately, all the cuts and the single stab wound missed the important stuff -vital organs, arteries, wings – but it still hurt like a mother to purify them. He tried not to scream and scare everyone to death, but the tremors and electrical phenomenon were entirely out of his control. So were the dents in the bedframe where his hands were wrapped around it.

 The relative peace so close to the final showdown, of course drove the Winchesters crazy. That didn’t happen with them. Ever. Nothing within ten miles of them ever went smoothly, especially not anything major, and most definitely not anything involving people close to them. Well, Gabriel wasn’t exactly **_close_** -close, but he wasn’t an enemy either…he was close enough.

Dean let his paranoia lull him to sleep; somebody would come get him if anything went down. There was no need to wear himself out before then. He would be of no help if he was sleep deprived, he reasoned.

Sam, on the other hand, felt like he was trying to sleep on a concrete slab for all the comfort his mattress was offering. His mind was racing with as many horrible thoughts as it could create… what if Gabriel didn’t make it? What if their plan fell through? What if-?

“Stop it.” He scolded himself, running his fingers through his hair, “He’s strong…he’ll be alright. And Grace’s obviously no featherweight…she’s got this.”

“I like your confidence kiddo.” Gabriel suddenly appeared at the foot of Sam’s bed, his blanket draped around him like a cape, “Beats Lucifer’s hovering anyway.”

“Gabri-?! What are you doing up?!” he immediately leapt up and threw his own covers off so he could loom over the much shorter archangel. Not that the gesture was really all that threatening, considering the power difference.

“Just trying to escape the helicopter assault. Lucifer stared at me so hard it woke me up. And I heard you praying to me, er, whatever you were doing…” he shrugged with more effort than it should have taken.

“I-I wasn’t praying…not on purpose anyway.” Sam was not impressed by his logic, and quickly took him by the shoulder and guided him to the mattress before he could collapse on his own, “And I’m pretty sure you heard Grace earlier. You’re supposed to be resting, not trolling around the Bunker. Now get in here and lay down, er, something before you hurt yourself.” Had it been any other night, and had he been in slightly better condition, Sam would have marched Gabriel into one of the spare rooms down the hall and locked him in rather than trying to cohabitate, but since all of the other rooms were full and the archangel appeared to be on the brink of passing out, it looked like they were stuck being bunkmates for the time being.

Gabriel shot him a lecherous but tired grin as he laid down, “Hey if you wanted to sleep with me Sasquatch, you could’ve just asked. We both know we wouldn’t be the weirdest thing on each other’s list.”

“You know that’s **_not_** what I meant.” Sam could feel his face burning bright red, both from the suggestion and from the realization that (sad as it was) the second statement was true, “I’m going to tell your brother where you are so he doesn’t freak out, and then I’m coming right back. If I catch you out of bed again, I will tie you down and ward the door.” The angel snickered, and the human realized too late that he’d only added on to the innuendo.

“Oooh, sounds fun. Didn’t think you were that type.”

“Go. To. Sleep. And no candy in the bed.”

“Now that’s just uncalled for.” The archangel pouted like the child he was, but complied nonetheless…sort of. He made himself comfortable as Sam skulked down the hall to the main living area, but Gabriel didn’t make any moves towards sleeping. Instead, he studied the contents of the room in an effort to fight his drowsiness. He didn’t want to sleep. The very idea was foreign to him. Angels didn’t need sleep. He’d never slept a day in his life. And yet here it was, creeping up on him like some invisible adversary.

Sam emerged from his room and crept down the hall where Gabriel had originally been with his brother; Lucifer was still sitting inside the room studying the floor intently. His focus only wavered when Sam’s hand touched the door and he cleared his throat.

“I’m guessing Gabe’s with you?”

Blush flashed across his face again and his jaw tightened, “Y-yeah. Just wanted to let you know…so…you wouldn’t be wondering.”

The angel quirked his head to the side and smirked with far less malice than the human was expecting, “C’mon Sam, that’s not all you wanted and you know it. I know it.” He said, “You want to tell me something else. I’ve seen it eating at you since I got back tonight…I know you well enough to tell.”

He took a deep breath, contemplated ignoring Lucifer and stalking back to his room, then went ahead anyway, “Yeah, I uhm…I wanted to th-thank you, I guess.” Genuine surprise struck the angel’s features, and the retort he had built up evaporated, “I still don’t trust you…I mean I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop and set you off…but…”

“But…?”

“But you didn’t leave Gabriel and Cas behind earlier. And you…you’ve actually been pretty helpful with all this…so…thanks…” he coughed awkwardly, nodding his farewell and heading back down the hallway before either of them could make it weirder.

“Hey, Sam?”

He stopped and turned.

“I’m…” there was a heavy pause. Something that had been gnawing at Lucifer appeared and disappeared in the silent air with equal speed and was replaced with, “Don’t wait too long for that other shoe, kid. I’m working on it.”

It wasn’t an outright apology (Sam wondered if he’d ever get one, and doubted it) but it was almost a promise of change, and he was okay with that for now. He nodded again and left. Sam returned to his bedroom and found Gabe still blinking in the lamplight, which mildly frustrated the younger Winchester. He said nothing about it however, only remarking on the fact that, in spite of Gabriel’s vessel being smaller than he was, that he was hogging the bed, “Scoot. You might have hi-jacked my room, but you are not pushing me out of the bed.”

Gabriel sighed and inched backward, dragging his blanket along with him, “Sam, I probably can’t push these sheets any distance. I’m beat, man. But this whole sleep thing is too weird…”

“It’s only for tonight. It won’t be that bad.” He reached over and clicked the light off, cloaking them in blackness, “I just hope you can get some sleep…the demon blood is obviously messing with you.”

“That bad, huh?”

“No offense, but you look awful. Like you have the worst case of the flu in history.”

“Gee, thanks.” They both let out half-hearted chuckles and tried to get comfortable with each other. Sam didn’t want to make it awkward by cuddling up too close, Gabriel didn’t care if it was awkward or not, he just wanted to rest without being disturbed, “Sam, I promise I won’t bite unless you ask. Just- c’mere.” He huffed petulantly, draping Sam’s arm over his shoulder and curling under it.

“A-are you su-?”

“Goodnight Sam.” Gabriel mumbled, not closing his eyes until he felt Sam’s head rest on top of his and his breath even out as he drifted off. Sleep wasn’t all that bad, now that he thought about it…

 

 

“Where’s Gabriel?” Cas asked as he came past the bunk that Lucifer was now exiting alone. Grace was also nowhere in sight, but he had seen her go into her own room a few moments ago, after she tended the other angels as best she could, or as best as they would let her. Some of them weren’t quite as accustomed to working with witches as he was, he supposed. The demons had no issue with her, obviously. One of them had tried to flirt with her, he was pretty sure.

“Moose hunting.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, actually getting a chuckle out of Castiel, “Little brother doesn’t enjoy being babied anymore I guess…not by me anyhow.” Lucifer pretended to pout, but in truth he had expected Gabriel to run out on him as soon as he could stand. They may be on the mend, but it’s a gradual process; they couldn’t just jump into cloudy little bunkbeds and be all brotherly again right out of the gate. However, the two archangels had actually managed to be civil with each other while Grace was fixing the younger one, and even talked alone for a while after she told them goodnight. It wasn’t until an awkward silence, not a simple case of concerned hovering, occurred that Gabriel limped out in search of the Winchester he claimed was “longing” for him loud enough to drown out the warding engraved in his ribs.

Lucifer wasn’t buying **_that_** for a minute, but he let him go anyway. Whatever helped his sibling heal faster, be it prank-calling Crowley or shaving Dean’s hair off or spooning with Sam, was fine with him. He’d figured out -finally- that pushing Gabriel wouldn’t make things heal any faster. He was still a long way from patient though…

Cas smiled, the same thought in his mind. He was just happy their brother was going to be alright. Another thought came to him, “You don’t think he-?”

“C’mon Castiel, really?”

“Well he’s certainly got an odd way of showing affection…” Cas recalled some of the tales that he had been told of the Winchester’s encounters with the “Trickster”, and his own experience in T.V Land.

“I’m starting to think that’s a family trait too…aside from our good looks y’know.”

“Causing people pain and distress to show that you like them?”

Lucifer shrugged with a twinge of knowing bitterness on his tongue, “Hey, love hurts, doesn’t it?”

Cas sighed, “I suppose it does, one way or another…”

 

 

Grace had left the door slightly ajar when she shuffled exhaustedly into their room; it creaked at a certain angle and she didn’t want to be woken up if and when she was joined by her roommate. He had seemed a little grumpy when she had returned, and she didn’t expect that he’d want to sit in silence while she slept…or tried to anyway.

That close call with Mick and Ketch had spooked her more than she wanted to admit. She was still puzzling over how they found them so quickly, and this puzzling was keeping her from resting. Sure, she was technically asleep now, but no sweet dreams were finding her. She tried to keep her troubled thoughts quiet as possible though…she didn’t want to draw attention away from anything important. Not for stupid nightmares. The B.M.o.L were no longer an issue for the time being…she didn’t need to worry about them, and neither did the others. One Big Bad at a time was all they needed to deal with.

Of course, Michael wasn’t exactly a comforting thought to drift off on, but at least she had enough hope for victory to mostly drown him out.

She was dead to the world by the time Lucifer crept in. Her cape was halfway off the end of her bed, with one of her feet caught in the hood. The pale blue corset-dress lay on top of it, but she still wore the white gown that had been underneath. Her boots were haphazardly kicked off to the side; one under the bed and one next to the dresser. Her hair was splayed over the pillow and across her cheek, in its natural state for once, not tied back or braided.

He mentally cursed Rowena for making this poor girl drive all the way to the coven meeting and back; he could tell that there was something else on her mind besides exhaustion, but just as she would focus on it, her thoughts would shift elsewhere and he couldn’t read what she was thinking…and he wasn’t about to wake her to ask about it. He could (probably) wait if she could.

“Hi…” Grace awoke, rolled from her stomach onto her side, and mumbled drowsily. It wasn’t the door that woke her though. She had to pull herself out of a nightmare before he could sense it.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and responded softly, “Hey…” She hummed back, then sighed. Her eyes were barely open, just enough to catch the light from the hallway. She blinked a few times, fighting sleep. He wanted to let her rest, but the worries in the back of his mind got the better of him, “Gracie?” he sat on the floor beside her bed so they were level with one another.

“Hmm?”

“Everything go okay earlier?”

She hesitated before opening her eyes fully, “Well…yeah. I guess.”

He knew it, “What happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t taken care of. Just those stupid Men of Letters…” she sighed, almost wishing that she hadn’t said anything at all. She could feel the tension growing with each word that filled the air, “They tried to come in and take us out, but all that got them was a free camping trip.” She silently wondered if they’d untangled themselves yet, and if they’d managed to find a road out of the forest they’d been dropped in. She hoped not. She almost hoped a coyote or something had found them, but then she realized no coyote had ever offended her enough to wish that on it.

She saw a flash of red in the darkness before he spoke again, “So you could’ve died or worse, and we wouldn’t have known until it was too late?” he hissed.

“But I didn’t.” She shot back, “You could have died **_or worse_** too.”

The two ‘or worse’ scenarios flashed through the heads of both the potential victim and the one that would have been left behind. The thought of that much pain inflicted her own body made Grace quite squeamish, but not as much as the visions of  bloody shreds of flannel or handfuls of broken feathers scattered across the ground. His mind had long ago silenced the voices from the Cage, the voices of the tormented souls that filtered through its bars, but the ghost-screams that suddenly rang in his head almost made him jump. The images of broken bodies and empty eyes and scorched wing outlines wouldn’t have concerned him if they belonged to anyone outside of the Bunker.

“Yet here I am.” _Just barely, but that’s not the point_ , he thought inwardly

Grace suppressed a yawn, then flopped back down onto the bed, “We’re both here, everybody else is still here, so what are we arguing about?”

He shrugged, playing with the edge of her cloak, “I dunno…”

“Me either,” she looped their pinky fingers together, “so let’s call a truce and enjoy the rest of the night. Agreed?”

He nodded, pulling her cloak up around her and then retreating to his side of the room, “Goodnight Grace.” Lucifer didn’t sleep that night, he spent most of it hoping – maybe even praying – that this was not the last silent night that they would all see.

He received no answer to his pleas; he wasn’t really expecting one, so he wasn’t exactly let down...


	8. Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons

It was still dark outside when the alarms screeched to life, filling the Bunker with red lights and blaring sirens and sending everyone hastily clambering out of their beds and reveries and to their battle stations. Instead of luring Michael to some remote location where they would have the jump on him (more or less), he had found them. And the warding they had laid outside would only hold for so long, if it held at all.

            “ ** _I know you’re in there, coward. Come out and face me!_** ” he boomed, unleashing a teeth-rattling thunderstorm outside the walls. Everyone in the place could hear him, and some feared he was talking to them personally. The storm outside hardly compared to the one within the Bunker, however; as Michael's deafening voice rang through the halls, calling for Lucifer to come out and face him, other screams tried to drown him out.

Gabriel and Castiel called frantically for the other angels, the ones who hadn’t fled in terror, to ready themselves. Crowley ordered the demons around, and for once none disobeyed him...if only because they knew that Lucifer stood behind him now. The Winchesters scrambled around, reinforcing the warding and looking for the sword and trying to help Grace and Rowena. The two witches were reciting the spells as fast as their tongues could move. Frantic Latin and wrathful Enochian and terrified English were seamlessly entwined into one language in the frenzy.

It all seemed to be working, if his power thrashing against theirs was any indication, and they were ready to strike the last blow as soon as he was fully incapacitated. Sam ended up with the sword, and when the last word of the binding spell was spoken, he gave the signal to attack on all sides. Blue light erupted from the hill top above the Bunker door and white forked down from the clouds above (Lucifer wanted to go outside with the others, but it was deemed too risky), blasting the vessel that no one had bothered to identify. Red and black smoke swirled around him. Runes flashed in the air. There was a pained cry from the midst of the cloud of magic, and then silence fell as the dust began to settle.

No one moved. Everyone held their breath, even if they didn’t have to breathe.

Cautious optimism crept in, "Cas, what does Gabe see? What’s going on?" Sam whispered a prayer, clutching the sword tightly.

The other two angels reached out to the ones outside via Angel Radio, "They don’t see him..." Cas answered, "Either he was totally disintegrated or..."

"Or he got away." he and Lucifer said in unison. They all felt something was off. That was too easy. He didn’t even put up a real struggle, not the kind expected from an archangel.

The archangel flanked the seraph, and together both of them shuffled toward the door, "What are you-?!" Grace gasped.

“ _The coast is clear, but stay inside until we’re doubly sure_.” Gabriel ordered the others, but mostly her and the Winchesters. He knew how they were, and she had this look in her eyes, like she might do something Winchester-y, like run outside into the fray. Like what she promised she wouldn’t. Like be a hero. Sam handed the sword over to Cas and reluctantly stood aside. If something went wrong, he wanted to help, but he knew if he tried following them someone would shut the door on him at the last second.

“Be careful.”

“I’d rather be lucky, but I’ll do what I can.”

The angels disappeared before anyone else gave further warnings or suggestions. The silence that filled their space was so heavy that it made those who stayed behind go numb as they huddled together. They could hear each other’s hearts thundering in their chests. Grace was shaking. Sam was pressing against the scar on his palm, purely out of reflex. It didn’t help much. Dean chewed his nails down to the quick until it hurt. Crowley paced back and forth, back and forth. Rowena steadied herself on the edge of the table.

Nothing, and still nothing.

Then, there were footsteps. Just two sets, even the humans could tell.

Crowley drained of all color the moment he turned toward the hallway, and only spoke one word that had the same effect on the rest of the team, “Michael.”

That wasn’t the first name that came to the Winchesters’ mind when they saw the dark blonde hair, or the green eyes, or the face of their younger half-brother, Adam Milligan. It was only his face though; there wasn’t a trace of the youngest son of John Winchester left anywhere else in that vessel. Even in his madness, Michael was merciful enough not to drag the boy’s soul back into this.

Dean stepped in front of the group protectively, ever the big brother, “What did you do to the others?”

Michael smirked, reaching behind his back and throwing a bloody Lucifer to the ground, “Oh, you mean your little band of guardian angels? They’re all taking a little nap out front, except for him. I wanted you to see me give him what he deserves before you get yours, traitorous swine.” he then revealed the sword, which they were all grateful was free of blood, “You had one job, Sam, Dean. You were to be our true vessels. We were to end this world as it should have ended. But no.” He grabbed Lucifer by the collar and yanked him to his feet, “You had to change our fate to ‘save’ Earth. Well look what it got you…look where you are now. You did **_nothing_**.”

“Michael,” Lucifer dared not make any sudden moves, “you don’t have to do this. I beat this-”

“Oh, but I do. I really do.” He interrupted, “I have no desire to ‘beat’ my destiny; I don’t need to. I will do what I was commanded to do by our Father. I will end you, and them, and return home a hero.” intending to slit his throat right in front of them, he raised the blade to his brother’s neck, but panic struck Grace and she reflexively hurled a paralyzing spell at him. It, of course, did very little to stop the archangel, serving mostly as a shock to everyone who witnessed it. The fact that it registered with Michael at all surprised them; what kind of hedgewitch could put even a scratch on him?

Michael tilted his head curiously at her, a wicked mimicry of Castiel, “What’s this? You didn’t tell me you had a friend, little brother… I thought you hated humans, and they you?”

“L-leave her out of this.” Lucifer turned his flaming eyes from his sibling to her. He had to get her and the other humans away from his crazed brother before it was too late. Rowena and Crowley at least stood a chance to escape on their own, “ ** _Go. Now._** ” He commanded, his true voice seeping out over the humanly-audible one.

Sam and Dean slowly backed out of the room, pulling Grace between them. Try as she might, even with tears blurring her vision, Grace couldn’t resist them and they fled toward the exit of the Bunker. She hoped they didn’t trip over Cas and Gabe’s bodies once they got outside; she wasn’t convinced they were still alive. She also hoped that when they were able to return that they didn’t find three more bodies waiting for her inside. She didn’t hold her breath on that though…no sooner had she and the Winchesters gotten down the hall than she heard Rowena and Crowley cast another spell that lit up the whole corridor. After three gut-wrenching thuds, she saw the boys slam against the wall to either side of her. Grace almost turned around to go back for them, she was out of the range of Lucifer’s power through the warded walls, but she never got the chance.

She ran into Michael, who suddenly appeared in the main doorway.

And they were gone before she could scream.

 

 

Michael regarded the human front of him as if she were the lowest form of life there was, and she very well may have been in his eyes. She had sided against him, against his sole purpose, his holy mission. She must be punished. His basest angelic instincts screamed at him to smite her, while the corruption from the Cage hissed for him to torture her and use her as bait.

_She’s his pet. A mouse for the Serpent!_

_Write his name across her skin so everyone will know._

_Burn the witch._

_Cleanse her of her sins, Michael._

The Cage won in the end. It always did.

“Before you die, heathen, you’re going to tell me a few things.” He barked. He expected her to recoil from him in fear, but she straightened her back and met his gaze. The only difference in her usual expression is that tears were beginning to roll down her face. She knew this was the end, and she would stand her ground until it came. He slammed her across the room like a ragdoll, but not without taking a spell to the shoulder that was already aching. As she rose to her feet again, blood trickled from her lips, but still she snarled another spell boldly, this time knocking one leg from under him. Her defiance was Crowley’s. The crooked curl of her lip was Gabriel’s. Her broken but insubordinate stance was Castiel’s. Her stubborn pride was Lucifer’s.

Her mortality was the Winchesters’, despite their collective stubbornness about dying.

To punish them all, he would punish her.

_Smite her._

_You are the righteous son, it is your duty._

 “You will tell me who else conspired with you and what else they’re planning.” He demanded, crossing the room and taking a fistful of her hair and drawing his angel blade across her cheek, cutting just deep enough to sting, “I will punish all of you for your treachery.”

“You’re just proving them right, you know that?” she replied. The blade dug into her arm, but she refused to scream, instead digging her nails into Michael’s arm. It hurt her to know that she was looking into what had previously been the eyes of the youngest Winchester boy; he had once been Sam and Dean’s family. Now, he was a bloodthirsty monster.

He withdrew the blade, splattering their clothes with blood, “You’re trying my patience, girl.” She spat more archaic languages at him.

“Gabe said you went crazy for vengeance when you got out of the Cage… Dean said you were always just a power-hungry coward underneath it all.” She reeled back as far as she could as the dagger sliced across her chest.

_Finish this. No mercy._

“Perhaps if I did this to Lucifer, or one of the others, it would loosen your tongue…”

_No grace._

_You cannot fail, Michael. Not again._

Grace deadpanned as she sank to her knees, staring straight into his eyes, and refusing to yield, “He tried to defend you, Michael. But there’s no reasoning with your madness.”

She gave him no choice, “Since you won’t give me my answers, I guess I’ll have to bring them here.” with almost no effort, he slung her against the opposite wall with a sickening crack, then knelt beside her, “Pray that one of them finds you. Pray to your fallen angels.”

“No.” she coughed, barely conscious.

“Pray. Call them.” He commanded again.

“No.” she rolled to face him, but didn’t bother trying to get up. She knew she couldn’t.

“ ** _Pray_**.” He snarled, baring his teeth like a lion standing over its prey. But he hadn’t cornered a mouse as he’d thought…he was holding down a rattlesnake.

“No.” tears fell and pooled with her blood beneath her, “I will not call them to be slaughtered so I can be saved. I **_won’t_**.”

Michael at last relented, but only to correct her as the blade meant to impale him hovered over her heart, “I said ‘ _find_ you’, not ‘ _save_ you’.”

Her screams echoed in his head and the abandoned warehouse.

It wasn’t until the last echo died out that she did as she was told and prayed, though it wasn’t to her friends, “ _Help them…_ ”

 

 

The broken wail reached the Bunker. Michael made sure of it.

All three of Team Free Will’s angels heard the shriek broadcast from him on Angel Radio. It startled Gabriel so bad that he nearly dropped the ice pack he was taking to Sam. He didn’t have to motivate the other two into action, or explain to the Winchesters or Crowley what was happening when he told them to grab their weapons. They didn’t tell Rowena goodbye; she was too busy licking her wounds to care. It took the archangels seconds to find the source of the signal and transport the whole group to it.

“Cas, with me. Sam, take Crowley and search the bottom level. Lucifer, Gabe, top floor. Go.” Dean didn’t wait for questions or comments before racing inside, Castiel on his heels.

The teams swept their respective floors, fearful of what may await them. Most of them were afraid that Michael would still be there, at least one hoped he would be so he could pay for what he took, “Grace?! Gracie, answer me!” her name seemed to fill the air, with six different voices calling for her with the same tone of desperation. None of the angels were picking up on her soul, or Michael’s grace, but they suspected – hoped - that they were only warded and not gone entirely.

But she wasn’t answering, and he hadn’t appeared to fight.

            “Bottom story is clear guys. She’s not down here.” Sam called up the stairs as he and Crowley ascended to join Cas and Dean a few minutes later, “Nothing down there, as a matter of fact.”

            “Just dust.” Crowley brushed off his coat and tried to brush off the sense of dread flooding over him. This was becoming an all too familiar scene for his circle of friends.

            “Same here. All these boxes and rooms are empty.” Dean kicked one aside in frustration. This could not be happening. He didn’t want this poor kid to be another Charlie, or another Kevin. He couldn’t take it. None of them could.

            “She has to be here somewhere…this is where it came fr-” Cas stopped midsentence; he felt something tugging at him, “Gabriel! There’s a sigil here somewhere!”

            “I felt it too, it’s up here!”

They bolted up the stairs, calling for Lucifer to wait on them, “Hold up! It might be a trap!” Cas caught his brother just in the nick of time; his hand was already on the doors.

            He whipped around to shake Cas’ hand off his shoulder; change be damned, this is one time Grace would have to let a fight slide, “Let it be. Michael is going to pay for kicking our asses and taking her if it’s the last thing I do.” He wrestled free and slammed the last door open, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

            The first thing he saw was the Horn of Gabriel smudged onto a pillar in a shade of red that couldn’t be paint. That was what had called the angels to this room.

            Then he saw the writing on the wall, in the same color as the sigil, and what lay beneath the words…aside from the two nearly shattered halves of the sword.

****

**_Lost Your Grace?_ **

 

            “G-Grace?” Cas and Crowley stopped short just inside the door, too stunned to come any closer. Were he human, Castiel would have become ill as soon as he saw what had become of her…he almost felt it even as an angel. The sort of hollowness that bloomed in his throat and spread downward is fairly similar to nausea. Crowley felt it briefly before it turned into a choking cloud of smoke in his lungs, and then into simmering anger. He didn’t like many people, and fewer liked him, and now he’d lost someone that was both.

Sam nearly collapsed. He was hardly squeamish around blood at this point in his career, but she was almost as bad as Charlie when they found her, “No…no, no, no…”

            “She…she’s gone…” Gabriel whimpered in disbelief.

            Dean’s anger washed over his grief; why were they always too late? “That son of a bitch… I don’t care if I have to fight him with my bare hands. That son of a bitch will pay.”

Lucifer wished he couldn’t see her, not like this. He couldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t. His eyes wouldn’t register the pool of blood creeping toward them, or the glassy tear tracks that ran down her cheeks, or the hole through her heart. He never wanted this for her. She didn’t deserve this fate…alone on the floor of some warehouse, unable to be saved.

_This was my fault._

            He should have known better…he never got to be happy. Why should this be any different? Why would he get to keep her? His only friend in this world, or any other…

 _“No, it’s okay Dad. I get it…”_ he thought, bitterly cursing his father and himself, “ _What was I thinking, getting attached? She was meant to be a lesson, right? Just someone to prove a point.”_ He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly inched closer to where she lay. Every step felt like he was walking through quicksand; the closer he got, the lower he sank until he was on his knees beside her. He almost broke down when he closed her eyes and a final tear escaped from one side. She was still warm. And so small…like a broken china doll left to crumble by the child that toppled her from her shelf.

_“Dad, please…give her back.”_

            The others stood aside as Lucifer carried Grace toward the door, “Let’s go.” He said hoarsely, “It’s not safe here. He might come back…” he stopped short of the exit, however, when they all heard the whimper of a dog. A big dog. A not strictly-canine dog.

            Dean went white with fear, “C-Crowley did you-?”

            “S’not mine…”

Those who could see the creature turned and watched as it padded out from behind a box and made a beeline for Lucifer and Grace. It wasn’t snarling like they usually did, wasn’t growling, wasn’t barking like mad. It was whining, like it wanted a toy or a treat. It stopped in front of the mourning archangel and curiously sniffed the hand of the girl he carried. It whined louder, nudging her.

Gabriel tilted his head like the hellhound was doing, “She didn’t make a deal, did she?”

“Of course not! She knows better than to deal with demons.” Lucifer snapped, kicking the dog out of the way as he whipped around, “She’s not – w-wasn’t - that stupid.”

“No, no of course she wasn’t…” Sam interjected, hoping no one would unravel or explode (or both) before they could sort this out, “B-but what about before we knew her? Could she have been desperate enough for something?”

Lucifer wanted to rebut that argument too, but he quickly realized he couldn’t. She had said that her family environment wasn’t exactly ideal growing up… she’d never mentioned any relatives with magical or psychic abilities, only ones that used her for the ones she had or denied their existence… And she’d never point-blank said that she was **_born_** with hers, or that she had learned from somebody else, so there was only one other option. An option that would explain her power in spite of her youth, “Oh…no…no, that can’t…” he fought the realization valiantly, but it finally washed over him, “She **_did_** …she-”

“Her power. She was a borrower witch…” Cas finished for his brother once it hit him, “She sold her soul to a demon for her magic…”

This still didn’t answer what Gabriel was wondering, “Her soul obviously isn’t there anymore though…so why is the hellhound here?” everyone shrugged, still warily watching the dog watching the girl. It seemed just as confused as they all were.

“Perhaps it was simply too late. Just like us, huh guys?” Lucifer laughed bitterly, inhaling the bitter, coppery scent of the blood rolling down his arm. He felt sick. If he hadn’t been holding her, he would’ve been shaking…but he didn’t want to lose his grip. Not yet…

No one tried to speculate the possible location of her soul; they were almost afraid to know what had happened to it, especially with Michael involved. The hellhound didn’t linger much longer once it realized its prize wasn’t there. Team Free Will didn’t stay either, they had a funeral to plan now…

 

 

            It was pouring rain when they got back, so there would be no funeral pyre that day…a wake was fine with them though. They wanted to wait a while. That last lingering shred of hope kept yanking at their shirttails. Maybe she had a hexbag like Rowena did when Lucifer tried to kill her, and she would spring back to life sometime in the night. Or maybe she had put herself under a similar spell that would wear off in a few hours. Maybe Crowley could go “downstairs” and find her and bring her back; he volunteered to look into it after they got the place cleaned up a bit, but before they rounded up their scattered forces to look for a Plan B, “Don’t want to start round two without her…” he said, hollowly feigning humor while they all stood around her, “She’d probably get a bit cross with us for leaving her out…”

            “She can be pissed about it all she wants.” Lucifer snarled, crossing his arms to keep himself from throwing somebody or something through the nearest wall, “When she wakes up she’s going straight home and not coming back ‘til Michael is gone.”

            Crowley sighed, “I’ll check with what’s left here first before I go visit the rabble… ‘Bye boys.” His fingertips drifted over the edge of the table where she rested as he made his exit. They saw him shake his head before he disappeared, and heard the words, “Damn shame.” drift back over his shoulder. They couldn’t agree more.

            No one spoke after he left. Rowena stared across the room at Grace blankly, her face betraying no emotion, except maybe annoyance. The Winchesters sat a few feet away, stealing glances past Castiel occasionally; they both had beers sitting on the counter, but neither had taken a swallow since opening them. Gabriel stood at her left shoulder, Lucifer at her right.

They had healed her injuries and cleared the blood from her dress, but the now dried blood remained on Lucifer’s shirt and skin as a grim reminder (for who, no one was sure). Sam, in a moment of straw-grasping, had asked Gabe why couldn’t he bring her back like he did Dean at the Mystery Spot. He responded that he had tried when he thought nobody was watching him (“You know how I love surprises…”) but nothing had happened, not even a flicker of a heartbeat. Something or somebody was holding onto her soul pretty damn tight, and even an archangel’s power couldn’t pull her loose.

“Do you think…? Maybe a reaper has her.” Cas offered not-quite-hopefully, “M-maybe she’s not in Hell at all…” Not that that possibility narrowed the search very much, or gave them much comfort; a reaper holding onto her could mean she was on her way to Heaven, or that she was stuck in the Empty, where troublesome souls were taken to keep them out of meddling hands. For all they knew, she could not be in any of those places and be stuck in Purgatory.

_Or worse…_

“Should we try to summon one and ask it? I don’t know how much they communicate with each other, but one of them has to know something…” Sam suggested, receiving shrugs in reply; no one else knew the social habits of the angels of Death either, “And I don’t guess any of the angels here would know…” Gabriel and Castiel shook their heads. It wasn’t their siblings’ job to ferry souls anywhere, so it was doubtful they knew where to look. And if one of them had been in contact with her, one of the three standing in this room would be able to sense it.

Dean grumbled to himself, raking his fingers through his hair and casting a dejected glance toward the middle of the room, “Y’know if I hadn’t ganked Death to get rid of the Mark, I bet he’d be kinda helpful right about now…” What a strange day it was when a Winchester felt willing to meet with Death rather than dodging him.

“I wouldn’t put too much stock in that, Mr. Winchester, but I’ll do what I can. Gentlemen, madam.” A cold voice spoke from the doorway. He greeted them all with a nod before silently joining the archangels at Grace’s side, “And actually, you didn’t ‘gank’ me, as you call it…you simply released me from my physical form for a time. No mortal man can kill me, Dean, even with my own scythe…as long as there is life, I must exist as well.” He passed a bony hand over her body, searching for something that was missing or out of place. And Death found what he was seeking; nothing.

“I don’t suppose you know where her soul is?” Lucifer addressed the head Reaper with something like muted reverence; this was one being he had very little desire to irritate, “We’d kinda like to have her back, if it’s all the same to you.”

“If I did, I would personally escort her to where she belongs because I have just about had my fill of interfering from this side of the Veil.” He shot a pointed, frigid glare at the two men and the angel hovering in the corner. Needless to say, they avoided eye contact, “I’m only here because she is **_not_** where she is supposed to be, and I’d like to know what or who caused her little detour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I let my mom read this fic, and because of this chapter she won't take ANY of my reading recommendations. I would like to take this time to apologize for the angst.


	9. Hold Me Down - Halsey

Death did not seem terribly impressed by the barrage of questions that filled his ears soon after his arrival to the Bunker (or Rowena’s blatant staring); if anything, he found them bothersome, as he had intended to answer them before they were asked anyway, but being the somewhat patient being that he was he let the humans speak their piece. He had all the time in the world, and they didn’t.

Why did he come now, and not sooner? He was a little bloody busy, thank you very much, and if something hadn’t gone screwier than usual with Winchesters involved he wouldn’t have come at all. Some people actually try to do their jobs without causing waves, you know. Cue more pointed glares and more casual glances in the opposite direction.

Where had he been all this time? In a non-corporeal state that maybe three or four members of the present company would comprehend, so he was not inclined to explain any further than that. He did mention, however, that he had been to Heaven’s gates recently…which were operational once more, by the way.

Is that how he knew about Grace? Obviously. Her soul was not among the departed that were brought there by his subordinates, nor was she locked in the Empty. She didn’t belong in Purgatory, he added, and she wasn’t here with them. He was none too fond of Hell, and had decided to let Crowley conduct that search on his own with the help of a few reapers he’d sent.

Any other news from Upstairs? Yes, he was told that neither Amara nor Chuck had ordained Michael’s mission to restart Armageddon, and that punishment would be dealt out as soon as he was caught. Severe punishment. He had upset the balance of things by murdering her. It wasn’t her time to go yet, and even that one loose cog in the gears could throw off the whole machine.

“So, if I hadn’t gone to her that night, then she’d still be alive?” Lucifer asked, breaking his pensive silence but maintaining his unreadable expression, “If I didn’t try to ask her-”

Gabriel interrupted his brother the instant a certain thought occurred to him, “Did Dad send her to him knowing what might happen?”

“The two of them were meant to meet; that’s not what went awry. She wasn’t supposed to attack Michael alone. That decision was made far too suddenly to predict, so the assumption up until then was that she was safe.” Skeptical glances were passed from the archangels to the Winchesters to the Macleods and back. No one was ever safe within arm’s reach of this bunch, why would she have been considered otherwise by anyone who knew them? “Grace had a purpose in all this, but she was no sacrificial lamb. She told one of you what it was, but for some reason you still don’t believe her.” He turned expectantly to Lucifer, who was smoothing her hair over the edge of the table. There was an edge of sympathy in his voice that no one had been expecting.

The archangel sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets; his eyes never left her and he said nothing. Sam seemed to connect the dots just as Death was preparing to speak again, “She was an apology. Chuck can’t give Lucifer what he wants, or won’t, so He found somebody else to do it.” Sam chimed in, adding bitterly, “Problem is, He went back on this one too.”

“Looks li’e His old habits die hard too, Samuel, not just ours.” Rowena sighed, and the angels all scoffed in agreement.

“Now I wouldn’t lay this entirely on Chuck, boys…” the witch’s son reappeared in the doorway, with another demon by the collar of its tailored suit, “Seems someone else may have stolen our bonnie lass away. Isn’t that right Milton?”

Milton didn’t shrink away from Crowley’s grasp, nor did he show any sign of fear when he faced the self-proclaimed King...but when his eyes found Lucifer, he all but fell to the ground as he bowed and cowered, “M-my lord! S-sir I-”

No one moved to stop Lucifer when he stalked across the room and held Milton up by the scruff of his neck, especially since his eyes were glowing crimson and he obviously wasn’t worried about getting blood on his clothes. Crowley wisely stepped back, standing behind Gabriel. Death watched and waited, expecting to be sending a demon howling to Hell’s depths at any second.

“Where. Is. She?”

Milton shuddered at the burning-cold grip against his skin, “S-sir I-I don’t know where the girl i-is…b-but I know who m-might…” He suddenly felt eight more pairs of eyes train on him, and he noticed a demon blade being pulled from a drawer by the older Winchester. Castiel’s angel blade – an equally effective weapon against a common demon – peeked from between the seraph’s fingers. He suspected there was holy water nearby as well. Of course, all this was small potatoes compared to who was three inches from his face, but it wasn’t comforting information to have tugging at the back of his mind. He cleared his throat as best he could (considering the fact that his heart had leapt into it) and tried to explain before Lucifer’s minimal patience wore out on him.

“Th-the Harbinger girl-”

“Grace.”

“G-Grace had a little brother…but he got sick, i-it was cancer, and nothing from the hospital was helping him. She tried to use her magic to cure him, b-but her parents flipped on her and tried to make her stop…so she made a deal to increase her powers, her healing abilities.” The terrified demon explained, “She gained other powers too, but she hasn’t used them much until recently.”

            Lucifer’s eyes burned like hot coals as he turned to Crowley, “With you? Or one of your lackeys?” he snarled, dangerously close to crushing him to dust if he uttered the wrong answer.

            Crowley didn’t dare scoff, he simply shook his head, “No, not me. I’d remember her. I handle big deals like that personally…” he tried not to think of Bobby, he really did, but he’d stumbled across that picture not so long ago…the one he hadn’t meant to keep, but in an emotional moment alone post-failed Demon Trials had sent to his new phone. He never went out of his way to look at it, but he’d been searching for something else and couldn’t help but see it. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he missed that grouchy little bastard sometimes. He probably would have been a great help here lately too…probably curse them all out for getting into the messes they’ve been in, but that was part of his charm.

            “Well mine have been a little preoccupied for the last ten years, so who was it?”

            “T-Teagan Creed.”

            It was Crowley’s turn to be livid, “That piddling little hobgoblin is the one that orchestrated this?!”

            Dean squinted at Hell’s two rulers and the yes-man dangling between them, and silently wished that for once, things down there weren’t so convoluted, “I’m sorry, who?”

            “He’s a powerful crossroads demon, but his methods are a little more…” the demon hesitated, searching for the right word to describe Creed. He didn’t want to sound complimentary, lest Lucifer smite him or Crowley strangle him with his bare hands, but he didn’t want to outright insult Creed either. That was just as dangerous.

            “Underhanded? **_Insane_**?”

            “Unorthodox, even for a demon…he doesn’t always take souls as part of the deals, and even if he does, it’s not always from the one he made the deal with.”

            “Wait, can they do that?” Sam asked, and all three hellions nodded, “What does he take instead of souls?”

            “Favors, usually. Or he makes them sign over someone else’s soul, if he’s feeling particularly cruel.”

            “Which was it for her?” Gabriel demanded, “What did he make Grace do? Do you know?”

            _“What do you want from me? This has to cost something…”_

_Creed gave her a devil’s grin, his crimson eyes gleaming in the sunrise’s light, “Hmm…how about this… **you** name what you think is a fair price for our little deal, aside from the kiss of course. That’s mandatory.”_

_“Don’t you usually take…souls?”_

_He nodded, “Whose soul are you gonna give me, Miss Grace? Yours, or…?”_

_She paused, but only for a split second before she responded._

“It wasn’t her soul that she gave him. She sold her father’s soul to Creed.”

            Jaws hit the floor and hearts stuttered over missed beats. That did **_not_** seem like something she would have done, even if she was desperate beyond measure; that was a whole other level of betrayal, and her father probably hadn’t known about it until it was far too late, “W-why would she…?”

            “Her father was the one who made her brother sick…h-he smoked or something…so she figured she’d kill two birds with one stone. Save Thomas and get rid of what was causing him pain…” Milton explained.

            “Then…” Cas mused, “why did a hellhound come after her soul when she died?”

            “He wanted her too, to be his right-hand. A powerful witch makes a powerful demon.” He whimpered darkly, “He wasn’t happy when the dog came back without her. He’s out looking for her now-” Milton suddenly dropped to the ground.

            Lucifer had vanished.

            The relief that washed over the lesser demon disappeared almost as quickly as his captor; he thought he would get off scot-free once he revealed the rogue’s plan. He didn’t realize he’d been thrown to the wolves by one of his own kind until Dean rose from his seat. These people obviously didn’t believe in the phrase “don’t shoot the messenger”…

 

 

            Dean threw the knife into the sink with their other neglected dirty dishes while Death soundlessly sent the departed demon’s soul to its destination. Everyone was trying not to panic and imagine the kind of warpath Lucifer was marching down; would he go after Creed and raze whatever forces he had to the ground without regard to bystanders? Would he run across Michael on his way there? Was he actively looking for both of them now?

            “ _I know you can hear me._ ” Gabriel called out to his brother via their Radio connection, “ _Don’t do anything stupid. You’re not the only one looking…we’re right behind you._ ” He didn’t get an answer back, which scared him more than any sharp comeback or threat his brother could’ve dished out. He hoped against all hope that he wasn’t too far gone, too far beyond reason to be called down. They were the only two of the four brothers left…

            Sam ran his fingers through his hair, then lowered his head into his hands. When it rains out here, it pours, and right now they were looking at a Noah’s Ark-worthy downpour. Two archangels running amok and at each other’s throats, a new friend gone as fast as she arrived and apparently not as innocent as she had seemed, and a rogue demon that wasn’t on their side. Swell, “So, now what? How the hell do we tackle this?”

            No one could really offer anything better, at the moment, than “one step at a time”.

            Death, feeling particularly gracious (mostly perturbed that he’d gotten tangled up with this lot again, though), offered to watch over Grace and to keep tabs on Michael while they searched for Creed (and Lucifer, of course). However, he did not offer to take down the warrior angel unless there was no other option whatsoever. He was a ferryman, not a fighter; the scythe was mostly for show. The Reaper and the girl vanished from sight.

            Crowley had already released a horde of demons to look for anything suspicious, so now all he had to do was figure out who could be trusted among them and pass the rest of the information along to them. Easy enough…or perhaps not. Gabriel sent the remnants of the angels to assist them, or in the more likely scenario, to get the job done with minimal backstabbing and/or debauchery. Hopefully.

            The Winchesters and Cas started making phone calls to the other hunters to warn them of the additional dangers that had arisen from their failed battle. Descriptions were given of the two runaway angels, and a B.O.L.O was issued for any information on Creed. Mary didn’t answer this time either; she did finally respond the first message, but she only texted the boys back instead of calling…but if they worried about that on top of the rest of this, at least one of them would lose it.

            “I believe that leaves us with her soul, then? Looking for it, I mean.” Rowena spoke up at last, having kept mostly to herself. She wasn’t in mourning like the rest of them, but she had been plotting revenge nonetheless; high-end witchcraft and getting even were second nature.

            “You sound like you know something we don’t.” Dean turned to her after shoving his phone into his pocket in frustration. He met Cas’ eyes for a brief moment, and his irritation waned slightly.

            “I usually do…” she retorted, “I didn’t partic’larly like her, but she was powerful…and Miss Gracie’s got more motivation to get rid’f Mr. Creed and Michael than we do. S’more personal for her.” Rowena leaned against the table where Grace had lain, arms outstretched on either side and a wily grin across her lips.

            “Mother, do get to the point.” Crowley cleared his throat at the first suggestion of a dramatic monologue. Any other time he would let her run her mouth as she pleased, but now was not the time or place.

            “What are we looking for exactly?” Cas asked.

            “You’ll need to search her house and any other places she might’ve stayed. If she knew Creed was comin’ for her, she’d hide herself somewhere he couldn’t get in.” Rowena started strutting toward her pile of spellbooks; odds are they would be needing some of these to pry Grace loose of her protection spells if Death didn’t come along, “Typical ghost things I expect; flick’ring lights, cold spots…and demon warding, strong demon warding.”

            The boys all nodded along with her list, and agreed to split into teams to search, one for the house and one for the cabin where Sam and Cas had caught her. Gabriel, Sam, and Rowena would take the mountain retreat. Cas, Dean, and Crowley would head to her house and sneak past any crime scene tape or patrols that were left over.

            Goodbyes were said and good luck was wished as Dean’s group piled into Baby with their gear and Sam’s combed the Bunker for Grace’s car keys so they could take Cloud. More silent prayers were sent out, but if you’d looked hard enough at each person, you could’ve heard them.

            “ _Going to the cabin to look for her, or anything that would be useful. I’ll keep you posted when possible. Do the same for us, if you can._ ”

            “ _We could really use your help…I wouldn’t be asking if we didn’t…please…_ ”

            “ _I-I don’t even know if you can hear this…but don’t…just…we’re trying, alright? Please don’t jump the gun and blow the whole operation.”_

“ _Hope our little rescue mission doesn’t go totally screwy…oh wait! I forgot how you have a sense of humor and all. Guess I had to get it from somewhere.._ ”

           

 

            Most of the demons that hadn’t volunteered to help with Michael had done so for legitimate reasons (more or less); some had stayed behind to keep things running Down Below, others had simply not gotten the memo because they had been elsewhere attending to their own business. Those who did not fall into either category, and some that did, had been rounded up and locked in the throne room with a very irate Devil. Those who were guilty of treason tried to remember who they’d prayed to as humans, and hoped those deities would have some mercy on their twisted souls if they were discovered because they knew he wouldn’t.

            “I’m only gonna ask once, and if nobody answers I’ll smite one of you for every ten minutes that passes until somebody talks…if I can wait that long.” He barked, “Where is Creed?”

            Five minutes passed in terrified silence.

            The sixth through the eighth were full of conflicted muttering.

            The ninth almost passed before one of them panicked and blurted out, “He went to her old house! Her parents’ house in South Carolina!” the other demons turned in disbelief toward the narc, and then in horror toward their ruler. They all knew that smile, that crooked, toothy sneer. The cold, mirthless laugh was no comfort either, nor were the slow steps he made toward the double-agent.

            “Atta boy…” he patted the demon on the shoulder as if he were congratulating him, but they all knew better than that. There was no pride in his eyes, only disgust and contempt, “Thank you **_all_** for your cooperation…” he hissed as he made to leave. As soon as he was out of sight, all but the one who spoke up dropped to the floor, dead in a flash of orange light. He was left at the mercy of the mostly-loyal demons, who had instructions to “have some fun, kids.”

 

 

            The Sun was setting when the ambitious young demon strode up the walkway of Grace’s childhood home as if he lived there. The quaint little ranch house had long been abandoned by the Harbinger family; Grace’s mother had packed up and left years ago, after her husband had been dragged off by the hellhounds and she and her son had been thoroughly traumatized, and no one had bought it after rumors of murder had circulated. Grace herself hadn’t set foot in it for going on six years now, but that’s exactly why Teagan went there first. It was the last place anyone would expect to find her missing soul, so that’s probably where she hid it.

            “Oh Gracie! I’m home!” he called out to her in a sing-song tone. Creed definitely sensed something in the house that was supernatural, but what he felt wasn’t quite what he’d bargained for. However, the power he felt poking at him didn’t feel threatening, so he went about his search as though he were totally alone, “Y’know, you really should have at least warded the place if you didn’t want to come with me. I’m gettin’ mixed signals here darlin’.” He drawled.

            The front hall was empty, so was the kitchen, and the living room too, but the signal was getting stronger the further toward the back of the house he went. He was close, he knew it.

            But to what, he had no idea.

            Neither of the bathrooms held anything of interest, nor did the dining room or laundry room. The two smaller bedrooms held only evidence of trespassing teens and vagrants; empty bottles on the windowsills and scraps of clothes and cigarettes. Teagan’s grand tour would end in the master bedroom, the only place left he hadn’t checked. She had to be there, or he’d come here for no reason and would have to start from Square 1.

            He heard the crash while he was inspecting one of the closets and immediately manifested himself in the same area to prevent any escape by the culprit, but instead of a ball of blue-white light he was met with a bruised and battered boy about the same age as his current vessel that was giving off immense waves of power and who looked just as confused as he did. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, sizing each other up as if they were preparing to duel.

            “You lost, pal?”

            “Not exactly.”

            “Me neither.”

            “I thought you were someone else.”

            “Likewise. Who you lookin’ for?”

            “The girl who used to live here, her soul. She obstructed my completion of my mission to rid the world of Lucifer and his followers.”

_She dared to strike you._

_She made you look like a fool, Michael._

_She’s hiding, you must find her before she gets away._

_She can’t escape._

Michael squared his shoulders and tilted his chin up haughtily, “I sensed a demon and thought you were Crowley. He was in league with her, and will be-”

            Teagan held up his hand, “Say no more…I’ll let the mistaken identity slide this once, but it sounds like we’re barking up the same tree, Hoss.” The archangel tilted his head curiously, so Teagan explained, “You want her punished, I want her working for me, which is basically the same thing if you ask her…but we need to figure out where she flew off to, right?”

            He nodded.

            “She’d be expecting me, so I won’t be able to get to wherever she’s stuck her soul, but you, my fine feathered friend, could grab her like you were picking a dandelion…” Creed flashed Michael the same smile he’d given Grace when she’d made her deal, “Whatcha say we lend each other a hand?”

            Michael was reluctant at first; he hated dealing with these double-talking abominations, but this one had a point; he was more or less on the same side of the battle for the girl, and it looked like they were both fresh out of allies at the moment, “What exactly will I get for helping you? We can’t both have her soul.”

            _Smite him and take her for yourself._

_You don’t need him Michael._

_He will betray you like the rest of them. He’s a liability._

“Oh, don’t worry, I share my toys.” Creed chuckled darkly, “You can have her first, once we find her, but as soon as you’re done with whatever punishment you deem fit, I’ll take her and use her powers to torment our adversaries. You can have whatever’s left of them too, if you want.”

            “Very well…”

            The crossroads demon’s eyes flashed crimson and he smiled even wider; it was almost skeletal, “What’d you say your name was again fella?” he reached out to shake hands.

            All he got was a deadly glare in return, “I am the archangel, Michael.”

            He withdrew his hand, but kept grinning as they left together, “Creed. Teagan Creed.”


	10. Bottom of the River - Delta Rae

“This is where you found them?” Gabriel was grateful to be far from the depressing Bunker and finally be out of that sardine can Sam called a vehicle, even if they were out in the middle of the now pitch-black woods. The two of them would have been fine company, but the pretty little third wheel kinda killed any possible vibes that could have happened. He did have to admit though, his harmless flirting with Rowena was a good distraction from him thinking too hard about the mess they were cleaning up…but he also needed Sam to bring him back to Earth temporarily. Buzzkills were permissible when they were pretty too.

The cabin was certainly giving off the right vibes for the Winchesters’ line of work, what with its dark windows and sense of utter isolation; they really should have waited until morning to look around, but Sam refused to procrastinate any longer.

            “Yep.” Sam tiptoed (as best he could) through the foliage behind the angel, “Cas got her on the phone and we traced her here.”

            The Trickster knit his eyebrows together in thought; Lucifer had said, and Grace had too, that she knew a lot about them from the books, so why would she let herself get caught by something so easy to avoid? If she had never answered, it was highly unlikely that anyone would have found them, provided his idiot brother could maintain a low profile. She was smarter than that… Gabriel mentioned as much to Sam, and he agreed.

            Rowena had overheard them while inspecting the shrubbery around the porch, and couldn’t help but sigh and roll her eyes, “She did that on purpose, y’know. She was testin’ how he’d react t’you, if he’d listen t’her and not splatter you all over the trees.”

            Sam was thankful he hadn’t, and sincerely hoped that Grace had a plan for if he had tried… He shook off those thoughts as they continued to search outside. There weren’t many places to hide anything in this yard, and her red Beetle was empty as well, so the trio slipped inside and flipped the lights on as they went. Both the archangel and the witch felt something magical slinking around somewhere nearby, but just when they would pinpoint it, it would vanish again like it was jumping in and out of range.

            “I don’t sense any demon warding…” Gabriel shook his head as he emerged from one of the back rooms of the ground floor, “It is a little drafty in here though.”

            “Nothing in the basement either.” Rowena called from the stairs, “Well, ‘cept whatever Samuel and Castiel did to hold Luc’fer.”

            Sam leaned against the doorframe he’d come out of upstairs, his results evident in his expression; nothing seemed off there either, “Should we just call it a night then?” he asked.

            The others shrugged, both unsure, “Didn’t she run? When she saw you and Cas?” Gabe eyed some of the picture frames on the walls and the knick-knacks on the shelves, looking for anything that might hold a clue to where her soul could have been sent to. But there was no solid theme or connecting subject matter, it was almost like she mismatched it all on purpose.

            “Yeah, they both bolted for the woods. Don’t know where they were going though…there’s nothing and no one out here for miles.”

            “We’re on a mountain, Samuel. There could be caves or she migh’ have an outbuilding down the slope-”

            _Pop pop pop!_

One by one, the lightbulbs blew out and cloaked the top floor in darkness. The two doors slowly creaked shut, pushing a cold wind down the staircase and past the search party. That didn’t rattle them much, but what they heard next was a little more than chilling.

            “ _Sam?_ ” her voice sounded like it was underwater, but it was clearly Grace, “ _Is that you?_ ”

            “Grace?! Where are you?” Gabriel called out. They couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but they could feel it was close, “Can you hear me?”

            Her response was garbled the second time, “ _...hiding…looking for me…_ ”

            “We know about the demon chasing you, dear. We’re trying to find you before he does.” At the sound of Rowena’s voice, more light bulbs blew and the frames on the walls rattled, “Tell us where you are so we can take y’back to the Bunker w’th us.”

            “ _Where…? …happened to…others?_ ”

            “Cas, Dean and Crowley are at your house.” He hated telling her this, but someone had to, “Lucifer ran off looking for Creed. We haven’t heard from him since.”

            Suddenly, the temperature bottomed out at around forty, and every light in the place died over their heads. Grace sucked out every ounce of energy she could grab and manifested herself in the dark hallway, but even then she was still flickering and fading in and out, “ _Sam you have to call them back! Get them out he’ll kill them all! I’m here! Tell them I’m here!_ ” she wailed in a way only tormented spirits could. She grasped at the dark stain on her dress and continued to cry out for the ones not present, though she knew they couldn’t hear her.

            Sam dashed outside to call Dean (there was better service in the yard) while the witch and angel remained inside to get as many details as they could before she vanished again, “Where kid?! Where are you out here? We can’t find you-”

            “ _The river! Follow…river!_ ” she cried, desperately trying to hold on for as long as she could, “ _Call him Gabriel! Please Gabriel…let anyone else die…don’t let…die looking…me!_ ” she flickered again, and then she was gone. A few of the lights came back on, but most of them had shattered. It never warmed back up, but maybe that was just them…

            “G-Gabe, they’re not picking up. No one is answering their phones.” Sam was almost as pale as Grace when he came back in, “Wh-what did she say, anything?”

            “She said something ‘bout a river. Guess that’s where she was heading when you found her and Lucifer…downstream from here.” Gabriel nodded toward the living room balcony, “We can’t go out there right now though, er, you can’t. Too dark and dangerous. I’ll go check real quick and in the morning you-”

            “Excuse me?”

            Gabriel wasn’t expecting such high levels of sass at this time of night, not from Sam anyway, “Well, first off, you can’t see in the dark last time I checked. Secondly, there is some whacko demon on the loose, which coincides with my first point-”

            “Oh, so we’re going to ignore the fact that your psycho older brother could barge in here at any minute and cut you down while you tromp through the woods by yourself? I don’t think so! You’re not **_going_** by yourself, and I’m not **_staying_** by myself.” He retorted, and so went the arguments for and against either of them coming or going against the wishes of the other one.

Neither of them watched Rowena closely enough to notice her slip back down into the basement and out onto a deer path through the trees; there was just enough moonlight to see where she was going. She found the river easily enough, the real trouble was staying out of it and off the muddy part of the bank. Finding the place Grace had been trying to tell them about was another story, however; she’d only said to follow the river, she didn’t say how far or any other directions. Rowena figured she’d just wing it until she figured it out, as anything beat listening to those two bicker like common fishwives.

“Gracie, darlin’…c’mon out. Tell Auntie Rowena where you’ve gone.” She lilted, hoping the younger girl’s disdain for her would surpass even the confines of the grave, and she would come out to haunt her. And it worked. She had to stop in her tracks so she wouldn’t run into the ghoulish vision of her little rival, “Where to love?” she asked sweetly, like Red Riding Hood asked the Big Bad Wolf.

“ _Keep straight. You’re close._ ” Grace was hardly as amused as the older witch was by the teasing, but since she was the only one out here, a beggar couldn’t be a chooser, “ _If you do anything underhanded to me or those boys, you’ll be joining me._ ”

Rowena turned her head at the distant sound of Gabriel calling for her from the porch, and when she turned frontward again the spirit was gone. She marched on, while her comrades alternated between trying to coax her back and trying to get someone to answer their calls.

 

 

Meanwhile, Hell’s third runner-up and Heaven’s dishonorably discharged commander were closing in on their second location, which also happened to be the first stop for the remainder of Team Free Will. Neither party knew they were expecting company, but the side everyone was rooting for had noticed something odd not long after they’d pulled down the driveway.

“Hey, are you guys getting any signal? My phone is completely shot.” Dean tried several times in vain to reach out to his brother, even to Cas or Crowley who were standing right beside him, but something had killed the signal. Neither of them were having any luck either.

“Probably a network dead spot.” Cas shrugged, though he was still trying to convince himself as well as the others; something else felt off too. Maybe it was the proximity to where all this began…from the front walkway, they could clearly see Michael’s landing zone even in the dark. He had left a gaping hole in the surrounding forest, after all, and the stars were shining through the charred branches. Maybe it was the strange little headache that was bubbling up in the back of his skull (of course, that could have been a result of Dean practically flying down backroads and everyone hitting their heads on something at least once on the way out here).

“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that, Squirrel…” Crowley eyed the quiet setting suspiciously, “It seem a bit too serene hereabouts, or is it just me?” the odd trio smuggled themselves inside without disturbing the crime scene tape over the door.

“Nah, it’s not just you…” Dean inspected the kitchen while Cas went to the study across the hall and Crowley took the dining room, “Actually it is you. I thought Rowena said this place would be warded against demons because of Creed? How’d you get in?”

He peeked around the corner incredulously, “Oh, so now you’re worried about that? After I was the first one through the door?”

“I don’t know that she’s here, Dean. I don’t feel anything similar to what Rowena was describing.” Cas noted the presence of pet food and toys, and was momentarily distracted by the thought of a cat being on the premises, “If her soul was supposed to be sent here, then she would have protected it much more than this.”

Regardless of whether Grace was with them or not, there was definitely a presence lurking around, but could they identify it before it made a move against them? Not if the other presence had anything to say about it, “We need to strike now, or they’ll find her first.”

_Don’t let them escape this time._

_Don’t fail Michael._

_Smite them all. Even Dean. You don’t need him anymore._

“I’m counting on them finding her before us. She knew I was gonna come callin’ sooner or later, so she’d be guarded against demons. But humans and angels can just waltz in and tote her off as they please.”

“Then let me go in and find her. Unless you’re just afraid to spill blood.” The archangel snarled, his eyes flashing blood-red. Before the Cage corrupted his grace, they would have burned white-gold, like his true form.

Unable to convince Michael that it was best to wait until the others had confirmed Grace wasn’t hiding there, and mildly offended that he had been accused of cowardice, Teagan loosed the wrath of the archangel upon his unsuspecting rivals while he slunk around searching for himself. He supposed that would be a good enough distraction for them; they wouldn’t have time to pay him any attention. Well, two of them didn’t, at least…

While Michael assaulted the angel and the hunter, the two crossroads demons found themselves standing toe-to-toe just outside the last room in the house that hadn’t been opened, the bedroom across from Grace’s. They stared each other down like wolves, circling and looking for a weak spot, an opening in which to throw the first blow. There was no shortage of snarky remarks while they plotted each other’s demise, of course.

“The local preschool called, they’d like your vessel back before nap time, Creed.”

“At least I didn’t need any uh, additional equipment, to run my vehicle properly, Crowley.”

“Please, you aren’t even old enough to drive yet. Why don’t you go back to the kiddie table and let the adults handle things, hmm?”

After watching Michael take an angel blade to the shoulder without flinching, Teagan raised his eyebrow in disbelief and simultaneously threw Crowley against the opposite wall, “You call running around like chickens missing their heads ‘handling things’? You don’t know where Grace’s soul is any more than you know how to run the crossroads these days. You’re too concerned with your little friends the Winchesters and that cussed angel to even think like a demon, much less act like one.” He spat, “Hell, you might as well be human again, for all you’re worth.”

“You seem to think Grace is worth something, and she’s human…” Crowley retaliated, throwing Creed through the door and onto the bed at the same time he heard Cas crash through the kitchen island and Dean slam into the study door, “I hope you don’t think she’ll go along with whatever sordid little plan you have brewing. When she says no, she means it.”

“Oh, I can be very, very persuasive…it’s in the job description. You’d know that if you **_did_** your job…”

“I’ve been too busy doing-” There was a bit more yelling from the other end of the house, just before the whole building shook and a blinding light shone down the hall. Crowley couldn’t finish his sentence for the shock. The “earthquake” was followed by a much smaller _thump_ as something (somebody?) fell to the ground just out of sight. Both demons started to panic when none of their comrades emerged victorious from the unseen fight. They heard scuffling and muffled voices, and then a pained shout.

“Michael?” Teagan shouted, hoping for a response that never came.

Crowley started to call out to his crew as well, but their names fell from his mind as the champion stepped into the hallway. If Teagan’s heart were still beating, it would have stopped right then. It was one thing to pick on somebody your own size, but it was entirely another when you unintentionally enter the next weight class up.

“Bloody hell, never thought I’d be genuinely glad to see you…”

“Don’t get too used to it.” Lucifer growled, his flaming eyes boring into Teagan’s, “I’m not the savior type.”

A ruffled-looking Cas and battle-high Dean (waving what was left of Morning Glory around in front of him) were right behind him, the seraph clutching his head from all the frantic prayers sent to him and the human propping him up while struggling to stand for himself. Dean finally got a look at the big bad boss they were supposed to be fighting this round, and if he went by appearances alone, he had to say he wasn’t impressed. If anything, he was a little weirded out that the kid the demon was possessing kinda looked like a younger version of Crowley, just with a few freckles here and there and no accent, “Yeah, he’s more of the ‘raging, brutal revenge’ type…and guess who’s on his hit list, compadre?” he sneered, “You picked the wrong witch to have a crush on.”

Creed’s eyes flickered from the group to the room around him and back; there was no easy escape, but no incentive to stay because there was no soul to be found in this house. She had to be hiding in that cabin of hers, the place she’d run to when she made her deal. He had to think of something to get himself free quicker than Lucifer could come up with a “creative” way to torture him…

“Well, since you’re not the ‘savior type’…” Dean’s smug grin was soon replaced with sharp coughing and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; Creed found this particular human to be quite useful, and mentally amended his earlier thoughts. They weren’t total wastes of space sometimes, “I don’t suppose you’ll trade their lives for mine? I mean you don’t care about this one or these other two, do you, **_boss_**?” he jeered, tightening his grip so that Dean was now doubled over and Cas was holding him up. The demon was attacking the younger angel too, but Castiel was able to conceal his pain for the sake of the others (though he wasn’t doing it as well as usual). Crowley was currently halfway up the wall, dangling and struggling to fight off the invisible hand around his neck.

Lucifer froze, not even daring to look around. He knew that one wrong move would spell the end of the (somewhat crooked but still kinda) straight-and-narrow road he’d been weaving down, but if he didn’t do something the jackass across from him would get exactly what he wanted and it would be his fault. He squeezed the hilt of the sword so hard he thought it would break in his hand. His eyes never left the cocky little weasel that brought him to this impassible crossroads (too soon?); go against what Grace would want and let them die so he could snap Creed’s neck himself, or let Creed find and defile the only kindred soul he’d found on this Earth?

For a split second, he considered throwing it all away to get vengeance, as that’s what he’d always done in spite of its lack of measurable progress…until he heard the voice. It wasn’t hers, like he’d hoped, but it was a voice he needed to hear nonetheless.

“ _I don’t know where you are, or if you’re even listening anymore, but we need your help._ ” Gabriel sounded so frantic, so scared. He muttered something about the ones that were with Lucifer and something about Rowena, but it was too faint to be plain. All he could make out was, “ _I need you. Please come back, and hurry._ ”

His little brother calling to him in desperation made up his mind. He knew that even if he didn’t care about anyone else in this ragtag group, Gabriel did, and he knew that even in his own eyes he’d done enough to him to last an eternity. They had all lost enough; it was time they got something back, starting with their completely dysfunctional family, “ _Creed’s coming your way. Get ready, we’ll be right behind him._ ” He answered, ignoring the flurry of questions that followed. He slammed Morning Glory’s blade an inch into the floorboards and turned to the wayward demon, “Get out.” He hissed.

Teagan hesitated at Lucifer’s refusal to attack and risk the lives of his companions, but he didn’t stick around to ask questions and was soon gone from the now wrecked house. The other three fell to the ground – not dead, but half-wishing they were – and groaned in agony.

“I-I’ll kill that…little bastard…for that.” Dean wheezed. Crowley argued that he was first in line for that position if Lucifer didn’t beat him to it; Castiel was occupied with trying to stand and didn’t much care who it was that killed Creed so long as he was dead.

Lucifer all but jerked the oldest Winchester to his feet and healed him faster than he could protest the physical contact. They both ignored the awkward half-second of silence that followed before the archangel grabbed Cas by the forearm and did the same to him. He couldn’t undo every bit of damage to the youngest angel, but Cas was better now than he had been when they walked in. He was none too gentle with Crowley as he hoisted him off the floor and finished the job, “Don’t make this a habit, got it? Go get in the car, we have to move.”

“There’s no way we’ll make it by drivin-”

“I didn’t say anything about driving, Dean. Move.”

 

 

Rowena made it to the end of the river not long after the prayers were exchanged between the archangels; she found herself descending the hill beside a small waterfall and slipping into an alcove hidden behind the curtain of frigid water. She could practically feel the other witch pulling her along, though she didn’t see her anymore. Rowena didn’t see any runes either, but she felt the demon repulsion long before she walked into the cave. The only thing she did see besides moss-covered rocks and the odd sticks strewn about was a large, black cat with bottle-green eyes.

“Hello little one, have you got something for me?” she cooed, and the cat meowed in response, but didn’t move other than flicking his tail back and forth. Rowena tried calling him to her so she could remove the soul from beneath his seat, but Nox wasn’t about to budge any time soon.

He was waiting, just as he had been told to.

He didn’t flinch when Gabriel and Sam came crashing through the forest above the falls, screaming for Rowena to hide or run, whichever was convenient for her, but she nearly jumped out of her skin. She didn’t realize they had come out looking for her until they both dove into her hiding spot and were equally surprised to see her.

“Did you find her?” Sam checked behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed, and was not encouraged by the silhouettes he saw in the light of the moon. He hoped they didn’t see him.

“I guess she’s in the rock, but the bloody cat won’t let me at it.” She huffed, gesturing at the stubborn feline. If Nox could have, he would have shrugged and rolled his eyes and informed her that he was told to wait, “What’re you lot running from?”

“Lucifer finally answered me. Creed’s coming and-”

“Already here, buddy.” A cold drawl rang from the edge of the cavern. All three turned to face him: Gabriel in front with archangel blade drawn, Sam just behind him with a gun loaded with rock salt, Rowena blocking his view of the hidden cache and Nox puffed up and growling. They were a little more than shocked by his youthful appearance, but his proximity to them was a little more concerning than his looks. He shouldn’t be this close…

“I can’t come in, I expect you know that,” he went on, leaning against the only part of the rock he could touch, “but that also means y’all won’t be coming out until I get what I want…and I’m a very patient young man.”

“You think you’re gonna get past me, punk?” Gabriel challenged him, taking a step forward; Teagan didn’t move away.

“Why not? I got past your brother unscathed. You won’t be much trouble either with this.” Teagan pulled a piece of paper from his vest pocket and stuck it between two rocks so that it dangled facing the group. On it in what looked like runny, splattered brown ink was an angel banishing sigil, which by itself was no issue. However, in one hand he held the handle of a simple pocket knife, and in the other the blade rested on his palm, prepared to slice through his flesh and draw blood. Blood that would blast Gabriel to Chuck-knows-where if it so much as grazed the marks on the paper. Sam thought about shooting him with the salt gun, but even that presented a risk of activating the sigil if he was hit in just the right place.

Luckily, Lucifer kept his word to his brother about being right behind Creed.

The demon found himself sailing into a pine tree about thirty feet from the mouth of the cave before he could raise his hand to the paper. He looked up to see the Fallen One staring down at him with nothing short of murder in his eyes, and caught sight of an uninjured Dean and Castiel clamoring into the cave before he took flight again.

He didn’t hear them scrambling to get Grace out of the rock (out from under it, to be exact; she was inside a box inside the false stone), or the ungodly sounds the cat was making when Cas hid her inside his coat and they all made a beeline for the cabin where Death was waiting to put her back in her body (Crowley had stayed behind to call him). He didn’t see the whole group shuffle inside safely. All Creed saw was dead leaves and sharp rocks and musty dirt and an incredibly pissed off archangel looming over him.

“You must not have heard Dean earlier.” Lucifer barked, lifting Teagan up by his throat against the trunk of a rotten oak stump, “When he said you picked the wrong witch to mess with, he wasn’t lying or exaggerating.”

Creed spat blood off to the side, “You…act like I k-killed her…myself.”

“Might as well have. If she didn’t have to worry about you coming after her, we could’ve brought her back days ago.”

This time, he laughed cruelly, “Oh, you think so? What makes you think she’d want to come back to you and those miscreants when she could be with her beloved brother again?” he inquired. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, so Teagan explained a bit of Grace’s story that Milton had left out, “You thought he was still alive?”

“Your lackey said you helped her cure him. That he wasn’t sick anymore and that their dad was gone.”

“Oh, Thomas isn’t sick anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.” Teagan smiled a sickly red grin and tilted his head to one side, “But accidents will happen, y’know…especially when I’m huntin’ for a new vessel.”

Lucifer nearly dropped Creed when the resemblance finally struck him. They had the same gold-green-brown eyes, the same curly dark hair, freckles dusted both their faces (hers more than his though), and the more he stared at that smirk on Teagan-Thomas’ face, the more he saw his sister’s near-identical expression in his mind.

“Still gonna rip me to shreds?” Creed gloated, though he was really in no position to do so, “Or can you not bear the thought of…well…having the blood of **_both_** Harbinger children on your hands?”

The angel didn’t really register this last biting remark, because he actually saw her now…her spirit glimmered just behind the tree he had Creed pinned against. Her face was stony and expressionless, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks just like there was blood seeping from her heart’s wound. He whispered her name with a sorrow that matched what she’d felt in that warehouse as she lay dying. She looked at the imposter-demon with something like disgust, then back at the angel with a grimace.

She nodded once, and he understood.

 

 

The house was eerily silent when he came inside, Nox wrapped in his arms like the spoiled baby he was. There were no gleeful cries of reunion, no one even called out to see who had come through the door. Something wasn’t right…

“Guys? He’s gone…Creed’s dead.” He put the cat back down and followed a lone, dim light into Grace’s room. It seemed smaller than he remembered, but that was probably because there were now eight people huddled in the limited space. There were nine people total in the room, but one was laid out on her bed, still motionless and cool to the touch.

“What’s going on?” Lucifer began to panic. Grace was supposed to be back, she was supposed to be okay now, “Why isn’t she alive?” he almost couldn’t take the pitying glances he was given. It was the one thing he’d begged for all these years, sympathy, now he wished they’d take it back. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want their tears, their apologies, their condolences.

Death sighed heavily, “This isn’t her real soul. It’s a fake, and a very good one at that.” The ball of light hovering in his hand vanished like a puff of smoke, “She could still communicate to us via the false soul though, wherever she is.”

“She’s…she’s really gone then? Completely…?”

Death nodded, “No reaper escorted her to her destination, but yes. Her soul is not in this world anymore.”

There was nothing else to be done. One by one, the Winchesters, Castiel, and the Macleods filed past and out into the hallway; Death was gone as soon as they blinked. Gabriel lingered by his brother quietly. There were no words that he could find to fill the air that wouldn’t seem empty, so they just stood side-by-side for a while.

When he was at last alone, Lucifer thought back to the first kindness she’d shown him that he hadn’t doubted (as much), and decided to return the favor one last time. He pulled the patchwork quilt from the end of the bed and laid it over her. He spent the rest of the night out on her balcony, waiting for another mountain sunrise.

This one might as well have been grey for all he noticed though…


	11. Apocalypse Lullaby - The Wailin' Jennys

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Lucifer had trekked back to the falls to bring Thomas’ body up to the house; if they were going to give Grace a hunter’s funeral (he overheard Cas and Dean mention a pyre from the other balcony the night before), they might as well give her brother one too, so that no other foul creature could use him like Creed had. He laid the boy on the flattest spot he could find, and went back to the forest to start the search for firewood and to clear his mind as best he could. The others could join at their leisure, because he wasn’t about to wake anyone up just so he could see their dejected faces all day. No thanks, he could use a mirror for that.

He was in the midst of trying to hum that song Grace had been singing the night they ran from Georgia – he didn’t know the whole thing, so he was just guessing based on what he remembered – when he heard something he thought he’d never hear as long as he lived.

“Lucifer! Come here!” Sam yelled down the hollow, beckoning frantically for him to come to him. He didn’t sound scared, or like something was wrong, (or like he was drunk, which was Lucifer’s initial thought when he saw who was calling), but he didn’t bother to explain before he ducked back inside.

The angel trudged back up the hill with an exhausted sigh and let the door swing shut behind him on his way in, “What is it?” he asked when he found Sam coming out of the living room.

“You’re not gonna believe this.”

“Try me…” The younger Winchester didn’t say anything back, and instead lead the oldest angel upstairs into what had been her art studio/book and movie library. The others were gathered there waiting for them, as well as the second surprise of the morning, “Dad?!”

Lo and behold, there stood Chuck at the center of the room with His arms crossed over His chest and a unusual scowl on His face. Lucifer wasn’t sure what was more confusing, the fact that He was frowning so deeply or that everyone else was trying not to laugh at Him.

“If you’ll pardon the expression, what the hell are you doing here?” he mirrored his father’s posture. They were both not in the mood for any more nonsense today. He didn’t feel as angry as he thought he would the next time they met though…but that was probably because he was trying not to feel anything at the moment. He’d felt more than enough in the hours prior.

Chuck seemed to explode the moment His son spoke, like He’d been restraining Himself for a lot longer than He should have, “Who me? Oh nothing, just thought I’d drop by for a visit…and y’know, to tell you to come get something you seem to have unwittingly sent back to my place.”

“Uhm…?”

“I’ll give you a hint, she’s been viciously quoting several of my books at me, one of which I wish I’d never written in the first place. She’s also frequently reminded me that I won’t be winning any parenting awards any time soon.” He added to clear up any confusion, “Sound familiar? Anybody?”

There was no way…they… ** _he_** couldn’t be this lucky. Lucifer pushed that foolish surge of hope down. She was gone. Forever. On the other side. In that great cabin in the sky. She had passed on to…oh, yeah. Duh.

He let go and cautiously let the hope spread back through him. It was all he could do to contain himself; there was a possibility (and it sounded like a fairly good one, judging by Chuck’s apparent irritation with her) that she could come back for real. But that was no reason that he couldn’t get back dear ol’ pop for keeping this a secret until now; He’d let him suffer, now it was His turn, “Uh, no. Doesn’t sound like anyone I know. Guys?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells.” Crowley responded nonchalantly, quickly catching on.

Rowena pretended not to hear either question.

“Nope.” Gabriel struggled to conceal a grin that matched his brother’s.

Cas shook his head a little too quickly to be convincing.

“Nu-uh.” Dean shrugged, and Sam mimicked him.

Nox _purriped_ and went back to grooming himself. Dean would have been a sneezing mess in his presence were it not for Gabriel, who used his angelic powers to cure him of his cat allergy for the simple reason that the sound annoyed him so profoundly.

Chuck’s voice shot up a few bars in frustration, “Oh **_come on_**! You know exactly who I mean!” the look of utter betrayal looked strange (but still funny) on Him, “Look, I know my apology sucked, I know I-I went back on it and I shouldn’t have…she told me **_that_** so many times I lost track…but I want to make up for it. Grace won’t let me have any peace until she thinks I have…and rightfully so, I guess.”

Lucifer cast another subtly mischievous look around the room, willing anyone to speak up, “Should we **_really_** turn that wicked girl loose on the world again?” Rowena inspected her fingernails for dirt or chips in the paint, “Does anyone really deserve that fate?”

“Might I be so bold as to say that **_I_** don’t?!” Chuck objected, “She hasn’t left me alone for almost three days straight. Four more and I’m entitled to another vacation!”

“So,” Sam did the math in his head, smart little moose that he was, “she’s been with you since Michael killed her?” Chuck nodded, explaining that He and Amara had been trying to fix the Gates when They noticed what had happened with her and Michael, and that He’d reached down and grabbed her before the archangel had been able to do anything to her, “Why didn’t you send her back sooner though?”

“I wasn’t going to send her back with Creed chasing after her too, though in hindsight she probably could have handled him…” He mused regretfully. The question of ‘why didn’t you help us with the rest of this mess’ didn’t have to be spoken aloud for Chuck to answer, “And I knew you all could handle what was going on. You always do.”

What other choice was there? They **_had_** to handle it because no one else would. Or could.

“Does she want to come back?” Lucifer asked, relaying to the others what Creed had said about her being reunited with her brother; maybe she **_did_** want that more than she wanted them, “I mean if she’s fine where she is-” _Dude, for once, shut up._ He scolded himself, _For your own good. If she doesn’t come back you’ll just mope and skulk around up here all alone, wishing you’d shut your mouth when you had the chance. Has she taught you nothing of leaving the past in the past and reinventing yourself, even if it’s stupidly dangerous and puts everyone around you at risk? I’m sure that wasn’t the point she was trying to make but I digress…_

“She hasn’t stopped asking to come home to you guys…she’s not done on Earth yet, just like Death said. It wasn’t her time to go, and it hopefully won’t be for a very, very long time.” Pondering the idea of her fate being otherwise made Chuck’s head hurt to even consider.

Gabriel did nothing to hide his laughter now, there was just no use, “Jeez Dad, were you just letting her run loose in Heaven? Why didn’t you stick her in her own little corner if she was bugging you so much?”

“Because ‘her little corner’ isn’t done yet! I just said she wasn’t supposed to be there!” He defended His course of action vehemently; the original plan was for her to just chill with the twin deities while They fixed the Gates so everyone (“Yes, son, I mean everyone.”) could come home and waited for everything on Earth to settle down, but the “chill” memo had been lost in translation. Oh, she was fascinated with Joshua and all the other angels up there, and just couldn’t get over meeting Amara (“Said she was a great example to follow! A great role model for forgiveness!”), but the minute Chuck spoke to her it was like she turned to ice. A small, sharp, very angry piece of ice.

“Guess she thinks I don’t beat myself up enough about my mistakes…” Chuck added softly, scratching the back of His neck, “I know now that bringing Michael back in that condition was a bad idea…and there are so many other things I could’ve done differently. But I can’t go back and fix any of it without changing something else, and well… from here on out, I’ll…I’ll just try to be better the first time. Okay?” None of the angels spoke in reply, but they all exchanged a meaningful glance with one another and their Father. He had admitted to making mistakes… ** _sincerely_** admitted to it and sounded like He regretted them. It was a step further than some of them ever expected to go.

“Sounds like you finally learned your lesson Dad, so I guess we’ll take her back.” Lucifer said, hoping that their bunch wouldn’t get chewed out for wrecking her house or harassing her cat. He could only hope no one had hurt her car either, as he hadn’t seen it since he bolted from the Bunker.

“Thought you might say that…wait here.” Chuck disappeared down the hallway as if He were heading into the back bedroom.

Silence danced with nerves from one wall to the other and back. Rowena broke its spell and wondered aloud who was going to point out to Grace the fact that she could’ve gotten them all killed just by keeping her secrets from them; no one volunteered, because if she was versed well enough in the book series that she could quote it back to the author, she could shoot them all down with examples of themselves too. If she wanted to talk about it, that was fine, but they weren’t going to push the matter and ruin a rare moment.

Muffled voices soon pricked at the more sensitive ears in the room; one was low and reassuring, the other uncertain and quiet, and a little ragged. Their footsteps were faint and slow, the floorboards barely creaking under their weight.

Amara peeked in first, having taken Her brother’s place, “Hello everyone…” Her hair was longer than Dean remembered, her dress was a different color too. She didn’t seem quite as all-powerful or incredibly threatening when She was smiling that way either. She looked happy. Their eyes met across the room, and both were amazed (and grateful) that there was no longer a primeval curse pulling them together. Still, it was strange to just be that close and not feel the Mark; there were no remnants of it for either to contend with.

There was, however, a certain archangel raising his eyebrows and winking at the pair, which both chose to ignore.

Grace came in a moment later, as Amara gently tugged her inside the room, “I can’t stay for long, but she can, now…hopefully the next time **_I_** see you all will just be for a visit.” She told the Winchester boys to say hello to their mother for her next time they spoke, told Her nephews to behave themselves, gave the Macleods a friendly nod, and then was gone.

There was no evidence Grace had ever been injured, much less killed, and her clothes had even changed from the white gown to a ground-sweeping skirt and loose poet’s shirt. Her feet were bare, which explained why her approach had been so soft. Another reason soon became evident; she hadn’t run down the hall yelling for them because she had come through the doorway from Heaven and seen herself…she had started crying, and hadn’t stopped just yet. Her tears were of relief that she was back, but also of regret that she had left them all with her past’s baggage, and some of them were of fear that they would all hate her for it (she didn’t believe Chuck when He said they didn’t), but most of them were of anger at herself for not being totally honest about who she was. They had all trusted her to help them, and she had not reciprocated equally until it was almost too late.

Sorry didn’t quite cover what she wanted to tell them, but she had to start somewhere, just like everyone else. She couldn’t waste this second chance, lest she be the target of wrath rather than the deliverer, “Y’all, I…I’m sorry you got mixed up with all my mess. I should’ve told you, I shouldn’t have…I just didn’t want to throw my problems on top of dealing with Michael. I thought it could wait…thought we were safe.” She took a deep breath to steady herself.

“And I suppose y’didn’t want us to know just how powerful you really were, did ya?” Rowena chimed in, earning herself quite a few glares, though none were from Grace herself.

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Grace agreed, startling the older witch, “I didn’t want to give you expectations that I couldn’t live up to. I’ve been used for my powers enough to know not to show my whole hand…but I should have trusted y’all more than that.” She worried at her hair, combing her fingers through the ends and pulling some of the curl out of it. She only stopped when her eyes fell on Lucifer.

His eyes weren’t burning red with fury, nor were tears falling from them. He looked afraid, for lack of a better word…afraid that Grace would disappear if he came any closer. He was rooted in place within arm’s reach of her, not daring to move. She looked at him the same way she had when they argued over her sincerity before, unwaveringly despite the tears.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah, so am I.” her heart sank, expecting him – and everyone else in the room – to tell her how much they regretted trusting her and spending time working with her that could’ve been spent elsewhere. She waited to be cast out of the group, for them to all storm out and leave her in an empty cabin alone in the mountains. But that’s not what happened, and she silently thanked Chuck and Amara both, “We… ** _I_** should have protected you. I owe you that much at least, and you know I don’t say that lightly. You…you’re the only human that ever actually cared about me…not who or what I was, but me. But even though I am what I am, I couldn’t keep you safe and I’m sorry that I lost you. This…this is my fault, same as yours.” _Did those words really just come out of my mouth? Wow, look at me getting all noble and taking responsibility. That’s partially her fault too. Everybody heard that, right? Dad, Sam, Gabe?_

            Grace took another deep breath and glanced around the room cautiously before coming back to him, “Do…do you forgive me?” everyone assured her that they harbored no lasting ill will against her; Rowena’s indifference (she was just mad that Michael had come after her, and wasn’t concerned with avenging anything but her own pride) was comforting in its own way too.

            Lucifer found himself nodding without hesitation before turning the question back on her, “And you forgive me, Gracie? For being a terrible guardian angel?” he could feel some eyes rolling behind him just like he felt tears clawing at the corner of his own, but he didn’t care about either. Inappropriately-timed humor and scathing sarcasm were his thing, and he wasn’t one to restrain any of his emotions, good or bad, and they all knew that.

            “Of course, I forgive you…”Grace finally let herself smile, ever so slightly. They crashed together and didn’t let go for a long time; the top of her head barely came up to his shoulders, and she felt even smaller than she looked.

            He hadn’t expected her answer to be so quick and sure, but then again, he hadn’t expected very many of the things that had happened here lately…

 

            The victories and reunion called for a celebration, but it was declared that this would be held off until the funerals for Thomas (his body at least; Grace confirmed that he had moved on long before Lucifer killed the demon that had taken over) and Adam were done. Gabriel and Lucifer had gone back to Grace’s to get him before anyone could discover the body and start asking questions. They did their best to tidy up too, but the presence of the broken boy that had been his body was a little more than unnerving. Adam was so young, still a boy in many ways, and Michael had been older than all of them. It was so strange a pair that it was hard to reconcile the face they saw with who had been behind it. It didn’t help to think that at one time, it could have been Dean lying there.

            Gabe stood over the remains of one of the most fearsome warriors to ever live, and then turned to his other brother, “Were you the one…?”

            “No. I couldn’t.” he remembered the panicked moment he thought he was going to be responsible for two more deaths because he couldn’t bring himself to drive the blade home. Michael was still family, and some deep down desperate thing still wanted to save him somehow. However, it became clear what had to be done when Lucifer saw Dean’s face as he watched Castiel being beaten mercilessly.

It was over; he distracted Michael while the oldest Winchester seized the fractured sword and drove it through his heart.

He also remembered that night in the hotel where he felled so many deities, where he he’d killed his baby brother. He remembered the agony he’d felt afterward, “Not again. I couldn’t do it again, Gabriel.”

They didn’t say anything else to each other until they returned to the cabin, Lucifer carrying the body. Their pyres were in a small clearing below the house, but none of it was visible from the porch or any of the windows. There would be no blatant reminders haunting the cabin from the outside.

Grace lit the match, threw it into the pile of kindling under her brother, and stepped back into the group. She didn’t have the energy to cry much for him, and really no reason to since she had seen where he was. Thomas finally had the happiness he’d lacked in life, and even if that meant he was out of her reach for now, she was alright with it.

The angels stood with the Winchesters over Michael’s vessel, all of them mourning a brother as well. Two of them could take the same comfort as Grace, knowing that their little brother wasn’t suffering at the hands of a monster, and never would again. Three of them were relieved that their big brother wasn’t terrorizing anyone, and hoped that he was better off wherever he had gone. They each took one match from the pack.

Crowley, not in mourning but not wanting to ruin the somber ambience of the moment, offered each of them some of his scotch. He tried not to look so surprised when Grace took a shot of it without flinching (“Yes, I’m old enough to drink **_mother_** , don’t act so mortified.”). Rowena had left somewhere between the liquor and the fires being lit, seeing no reason to hang around and claiming to have better things to do anyhow. She promised (threatened, Grace said) that they would all meet again someday; there was much internal groaning.

The flames died out around sundown, or at least enough that they could be left totally unattended. They all retreated into the cabin to freshen up and lounge around before heading to town for a brief but well-deserved vacation.

Cas fawned over Nox, and insisted that they get a pet for the Bunker now that Dean didn’t have the reason (excuse is what he meant) that he was allergic to deny him that privilege. Dean said he’d think about it (probably not is what he meant), but whoever brought the animal home would be solely responsible for upkeep. Sam jokingly remarked that if Gabriel came home and stayed with them, that would be close enough to having a pet, as unpredictable and mischievous as he was.

Gabriel didn’t have a chance to state whether he was coming or going, or to rebut this “completely unfounded, inaccurate accusation” before Lucifer emphatically agreed, offering several (unnecessary) examples from when he was “just a little fledgling” to prove Sam’s point. As a result, the younger archangel spent most of his remaining time at the cabin plotting how to get them back with minimal consequences.

“Speaking of ‘after this’…” Crowley spoke up from his place in front of the bookcase he’d been inspecting, “what’ve you got planned, Lucifer?”

The angel tilted his head thoughtfully, “You mean am I abdicating my throne?”

“Not in so many words, but to be frank, yes.” The demon answered.

“Take it. I’m done dealing with those infernal, backstabbing cretins. Past done.”

“Likewise. I don’t want them either.”

These revelations surprised everyone, as did the potential suggestions of what they should do in the stead of one of them ruling. There were no Knights to pass the realm on to, and none of the Princes were interested. Crowley’s son was even less interested in Hell’s crown that either of its current holders, and Lucifer didn’t have an heir. They couldn’t trust any of the other demons or anyone else that was qualified to run the place like it was meant to be run, so in the end they decided to close the Gates and be shod of the place for good. Any loyal demons that had aided them in the fight against Michael would be spared, but all the ones that had a hand in screwing that plan up – the Creed lackeys who were responsible for the sabotage that lead to Michael escaping, Crowley informed the group – would be sealed in or hunted down if they managed to escape.

The latter wouldn’t be terribly likely with the two kings working together and/or with the rest of the team, a concept that no one seemed to be able to fathom immediately, including the involved parties. They caught themselves in the middle of scheming before they realized what was happening, and decided to save their plotting for later.

Grace emerging from her room in more casual attire helped steer the conversation in a less awkward direction; diabolical bonding hadn’t been what Lucifer and Crowley had in mind when they started that conversation, “Ready guys?” her camera was back around her neck, her keys jingled in her hand. She could hear those glazed donuts calling to her, and dammit if she didn’t think they all deserved some. When she wasn’t met with any protests or cause for delays, she lead the way out to the two Impalas and they rumbled down the mountain past a beautiful sunset.


	12. Forgiven - Within Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written separate from the main story, but I ended up tacking it onto the end as an epilogue type deal.

Michael closed his eyes to one brother gently cradling his head and opened them to another kneeling over him. Well, he knew it was his brother; to anyone else’s eyes, it would have appeared to be his sister.

“Raphael?” he blinked a few times to clear his vision – it was blurred by the light overhead – before he focused on his sibling. Neither archangel had been expecting company, but both were pleasantly surprised by its arrival. This place could get lonely at times…even for these solitary creatures, and in spite of its beauty. The two of them stood at the edge of a bubbling marble fountain, surrounded by creeping, flower-coated vines and the familiar scents of The Garden. The farthest reaches of Eden, well removed from the halls of Heaven, was their new home.

“Hello Michael.” The third-born of the archangels helped his eldest brother to his feet so that he could get his bearings, “I had hoped I wouldn’t be seeing you quite so soon…do you remember what happened?” dark, mournful eyes met with confused green ones, and two questioning faces mirrored each other.

Michael couldn’t remember what happened before he got here, not enough of it to make sense at least. He knew their Father had returned at last; he knows he saw Him at some point. Then he had been on Earth looking for Lucifer, though he couldn’t recall what for… To continue their fight? To make amends? He couldn’t say. And there had been a girl, a witch. He could see her in his mind: dark curls and glowing indigo eyes and blood…so much of it. But whose was it?

He didn’t remember the voices, or what they told him to do. They were gone now, his mind was his own again.

“Brother I…I think I’ve done something wrong…” he sat on the rim of the water fixture, staring unblinkingly at the pavement beneath his feet and trying to drag his memories back into his head, “I think I hurt someone…I remember this…agonizing pain, but I don’t know that it is all mine.” Fire burned at the back of his eyelids. A sword glistened in waning sunlight. Wails of the damned condensed themselves into one voice, one girl's dying scream.

“It isn’t.” Raphael sat beside him, “Father brought you here, and he told me some of what occurred.”

Michael withdrew into himself, the realization dawning on him that this was no respite from his previous torture, but punishment for something he couldn’t even fully recall, “Tell me. Please.” He pleaded with his brother, though he dreaded the knowledge he was asking for.

Raphael relayed to him what Chuck (“Of all the names he could’ve gone by, he went with that. It means ‘man’, funnily enough.”) told him about Michael’s little romp on Earth: his fleeing from Heaven before he was healed from the Cage, his quest to finish what was started in that cemetery, and where that quest got him in spite of his efforts and questionable alliances.

“So I lost again I see…” Michael buried his face in his palm, dragging his fingers through his tawny hair. Raphael offered a comforting hand on his shoulder, and what felt to him like empty reassurances.

This place is a far cry from the Cage, isn't it?

At least we have each other.

You’re not going to suffer here.

“I wouldn’t call this a loss, brother… Father also told me that you won’t be stuck here forever. He’s giving you another chance, when the time is right.”

“And when will that be, I wonder? In a few more millennia?”

Raphael shook his head, "No, He said ten years, perhaps less...if you behave yourself this time."

"What's to happen in that time? Will He take us back to Heaven?"

The other archangel's expression faltered briefly at 'us'. He clarified that his own sentence was "much lengthier" because he completely threw off the predestined plan when he attempted to take over Heaven by siphoning off Purgatory. Raphael had been meant to heal the celestial body of Heaven while their Father was absent, and instead his war with Castiel had further wounded it. He would spend more than a mere decade here, waiting for forgiveness, "I'm not worried, my time will come, and in the meantime I will help you shorten your stay."

"Was my crime not enough to warrant centuries? I killed someone before her time; I could've disrupted things worse than you did!" Even one, otherwise insignificant thing was thrown off-balance, the whole universe could change course in the worst way.

"Yes, you could have, but you..." Raphael hesitated, "you weren't in your right thoughts Michael. Your actions were the fault of the Cage and its corruption. Father was trying to heal you when you ran away, and He couldn't leave our home vulnerable as it was."

Michael scoffed bitterly, thinking how his Father once more placed his trust in the Winchester brothers to sort out His family's mess. He didn't care much for Sam and Dean, or humans in general really, but to put all of this cosmic responsibility on one family seemed entirely unfair to him now. With his apocalyptic bloodlust gone from his thoughts, the whole concept of the Final Battle seemed terribly stupid. If none of the brothers wanted it, and Chuck ("and the Darkness too. She calls herself Amara now.") has returned, why bother? Could they not work together and restore things to the proper order? Could Heaven's family not reign whole again?

"That's the idea. Father wants you back at His side, and Amara's...to help them rebuild what has been torn down. He just wants things on Earth to simmer down before He brings you back."

"But why? What has Earth got to do with Heaven?"

Raphael stopped short again, this time lingering longer in his silence than he had before, "It's not so much the world itself as it is a few of its occupants..."

Michael nodded, "Lucifer and the girl."

 

 

The decade of penance Chuck had prescribed for Michael was up; it wasn't exactly to-the-day, but it was close enough for both of them. They both wanted this over and done with so they could set to the real tasks at hand, resetting the remainder of the cosmic imbalance that Chuck's absence had created. He needed the eldest of the archangels to take his place at the head of the diminished army, to train the choirs and regroup them so they could protect humanity as they were made to. Chuck and Amara could handle answering prayers and the ebb and flow of nature, but neither of them were meant to be soldiers.

He would've come to fetch Michael sooner, Chuck claimed upon arrival, but He had to steel Himself for this trip too. His Father's rocky-at-best relationship with  Grace - Michael finally remembered the girl's name about four years into his stint in Eden's back lot - had been a detail Raphael had neglected to mention until just now. Out of respect for Chuck, of course...not because the thought of a mortal girl getting under His skin was so funny to His son.

"I heard them yelling at each other all the way out here when she first arrived. Couldn't understand much of what they said, and what I could I will not repeat."

Michael raised his eyebrows in amusement. He had also recalled Grace's stubborn temperament and unwillingness to back down from a fight, but he'd never imagined that she was so vicious as to have the Almighty at a loss for a comeback to an insult.

"She wasn't!" Chuck objected upon overhearing their hushed conversation, "I just...I wasn't going to dignify her snide little comments with a response!" He huffed indignantly, "I just hope that she's gotten an attitude adjustment since then." somehow he doubted that was the case...

Michael never wanted to doubt his father, though over the years it got harder and harder not to, but he had a sinking feeling that Chuck wouldn't be the only target for her wrath should the pair show up on her doorstep unannounced, "Do...do you think this is wise, Father? Speaking to her face to face?"

Chuck shrugged, which was far from comforting, "It's better than having to listen to her rag on me for speaking through a 'divine vision' instead of actually showing up."

"What about Lucifer? I assume he hasn't left her in all this time, has he?" Michael unwillingly recalled his final moments on Earth; his true vessel driving that sword through his chest, Castiel watching in awed horror from across the room, and Lucifer rushing over to catch him before he fell to the ground. He'd never gotten to apologize, to say goodbye properly, and now he was just going to appear before him out of nowhere.

"He'll be more concerned with keeping you two safely apart than with attacking you." Chuck took His oldest child by the shoulders so that they were facing each other, "You'll be safe with me son. I promise."

Michael was again uncertain, but he bade Raphael farewell and followed their Father out of the Garden.

 

 

Grace's phone ringing startled her out of the daydream she'd been wandering into; she and Lucifer had just come back from Gatlinburg with party supplies and were busy decorating for Dean's surprise birthday party. Fifty was creeping up on him, much to everyone's surprise, and the youngest member of Team Free Will was hell-bent and determined to celebrate the milestone the older ones never expected to reach.

Things had been fairly quiet since she came back from the dead, with no "big bads" to battle every few weeks. It was almost back to the original hunting life the boys had known before Azazel: ghosts, werewolves, rogue witches, etc. With Hell sealed, demons were hardly a problem anymore, save for the occasional crossroads deal. By extension of those gates closing, Purgatory was also off the board. The angels were busy tending to their own, and finally realized hobbies not involving the Winchesters were healthier for them.

The most excitement they got was on holidays now, when all their loved ones crowded into the Bunker or the Cabin for a slice of normalcy.

A normalcy that was about to get interrupted, "Hello?" Grace pinched the phone between her cheek and her shoulder so she could pry the bag of black and silver balloons open. Lucifer was busy hanging the streamers from the rails and wherever else he could reach.

"Hey kid, it's Gabe." the youngest archangel had snagged Sam's phone, "Listen, this is gonna sound weird, but I just got...like a revelation, I guess you could call it..."

"A what now?"

"Okay, so I'm supposed to be the Holy Messenger, deliverer of divine yadda yadda, y'know? Well, I just got that feeling I get when I'm supposed to swoop in with one of those proclamations, and I felt like I was supposed to call you specifically."

A pit grew in the bottom of Grace's stomach and she laid the balloons down, "Well start proclaimin', what is it?"

"I think Dad's coming to see you. He didn't say why, but He's on His way now."

The pit of fear disappeared, replaced with a groan of irritation, "Good grief Gabriel, don't scare me like that! I thought something was wrong..." she went to work filling the balloons with helium and attaching strings to the knots. Chuck usually showed up without preamble, when He bothered to at all, so she was actually kinda glad she'd been warned this visit. She had time to think of a way to con Him into helping with the party favors.

"I don't know that there _isn't_ something wrong, but I figured I'd let you know anyway. You know the quicker way to call me and Cas if you need us. See you tonight, Grace."

"Y'all be careful too. See you tonight."

The resident archangel called her from upstairs just as the doorbell rang, "Who's that? I thought the guys weren't supposed to be here until like eight?" she could barely understand him for the tape he was holding between his teeth, but Grace managed to translate his mumbling.

"That was Gabriel on the phone, and he said your dad was about to be at the door." she tied the last of the balloons to the chairs around the table; the ones that went outside would have to wait. Grace padded toward the front door to let Chuck in, and soon heard the flutter of wings just to her right. Even nearly eleven years later, Lucifer got jittery if she got far out of sight and could be counted on to be three steps behind her everywhere she went, "Don't know what He wants, but if He stays too long He'll be ordering the delivery and setting up the food table."

They were more than a little shocked to find two faces on the other side of the threshold.

Grace's heart stuttered over a few beats when she met Michael's gaze; he was still presenting as Adam Milligan, though his clothes weren't tattered and bloody anymore. If she wasn't afraid for her life, she would almost call him handsome in his neat grey uniform. He looked like a little general, minus the medals and stars that would be pinned on his shoulder.

Lucifer was glad that emotions did not easily overcome him; there were too many potential feelings swimming around his head at the moment. He was relieved that his brother wasn't truly dead forever, and yet he was enraged that his best friend's (attempted) murderer was now walking free and had the nerve to be standing here. He was terrified that Michael had come to finish them both off with Chuck's permission, but wouldn't Gabriel have warned them? More than anything else, he was confused.

He reflexively put a wing around Grace to shield her, which he immediately regretted when her eyes flashed violet; if she struck out at the others he'd get hit too if he didn't get out of the way quick enough, "What are you two doing here?" she demanded, blocking the entrance as best she could.

Michael took several steps back out of the line of fire and Chuck threw up his hands as a "white flag"; they weren't here to throw down, contrary to whatever she might think (or want), "Easy does it, we just want to talk!"

"About what?" Lucifer wedged himself between Grace and Michael, his red-glowing eyes flickering between his father and his brother. There was very little trust to be had between them.

Michael surprised them all by speaking before Chuck had a chance, "I came to apologize for what happened, for what I did to you." he spoke directly to Grace first, in spite of having a hard time looking her in the eye now, "You have every right to withhold forgiveness from me, you both do. Nonetheless, I need to tell you how deeply I regret my actions."

Grace's eyes were the first to return to their normal color, her posture the first to soften, "Michael, I know that wasn't all you back then. I know that was the Cage pushing you around, same as with him." she nodded toward Lucifer, who finally retracted his wing and let his eyes settle back to blue, "I wasn't too thrilled about dying of course, but I forgave you for this a long time ago."

The second-oldest archangel was the only one whose jaw didn't drop, "Why? Why would you absolve me of-"

"I got to see my little brother again, while I was gone." she cut him off, "I realized how much my friends down here wanted and needed me. And I got rid of the fool demon that had been harassing me for years. You, the real you, didn't mean to kill me any more than the other you meant to help me, but you managed both." it wasn't quite a smile that she gave him with the handshake afterward, but at least it wasn't a curse.

Perplexed but satisfied with her response, Michael turned to Lucifer warily. This mercy would be much more hard-won, "And you, little brother? Can you possibly think to forgive me for all my wrongs against you?"

A long, gut-wrenching silence fell over the four of them. There was so much weighing against him: Michael had been the one to physically cast Lucifer out, he had not stood by his side before then, he had not rescued him from the Cage once Chuck was gone, he had twice refused to forfeit the fight between them, and he had brutally slain Lucifer's one and only friend. What motivation could he have to let bygones be bygones? Why should he?

Michael didn't know if he could ever forgive himself for all that...

He didn't have the Cage to blame for most of his deeds, as the worst of them came long before he fell into it, by way of his own foolish pride and blind obedience.

Finally, Lucifer spoke, "Well, I can tell that you really mean it, that you are sorry..." he paused again, and Michael's heart sank. He was about to reject him, he could see it in his hardened expression. There was no glimmer of reconciliation for him; it was too late, "And if I can get a second chance, then I don't see why you can't too." he finished, letting his stony scowl fall into a cautious smile.

Michael couldn't stop himself from running over and embracing him, once the words finally reached his mind. His brother didn't hate him, he had every reason in the world to hate him for all eternity and he didn't. There were no words to describe his relief.

He was so immersed in his tearful reunion that neither he nor Lucifer paid any mind to the witch and the deity behind them, "So what took this visit so long Chuck? Did you not have time to put him back together right away or something?" her tone wasn’t quite as accusatory as he expected, but there was definitely an undercurrent there. Grace may not agree with His parenting methods (or the vast majority of His methods for that matter) but she seemed to understand that He couldn’t exactly snap _everything_ back into place. Some things just took time no matter who or what you are.

Chuck leaned casually against the railing, His hands stuffed into the pockets of His khakis; He was dressed nicer than the last time she had seen him too, in a grey sweater and a white button-up with a black tie. He looked more like a published author now than a college student running on coffee fumes and deadline-induced anxiety. She couldn’t really say whether He looked more like the creator of the universe as mankind knew it or not though; all she knew is that His vessel cleaned up nice and He seemed to be pulling things back together.

“Well, no. I fixed him in a few months. Healed his head while he was still out of it… I just wanted to give you all a chance to readjust before we came barging in is all.”

Grace tried to conceal her eyerolling, fruitless as that endeavor often proved to be, “Don’t you think ten years was a bit of an excessive wait? I wasn’t _that_ bent out of shape about it, and it’s not like I could _really_ do anything to him even if I was.”

Chuck bit back a snappy reply and instead conceded that they would’ve come sooner if He hadn’t gotten so tangled up with actually doing His job; Amara was helpful, but They’d both been gone for so long that it was hard to get back in the swing of things. Fixing the Gates, making new angels to replace the lost ones, and sorting out all the souls coming in was fairly time-consuming.

She was inclined to agree, although her dismissive reply indicated that she thought He was just scatterbrained, “Oh, well…at least you didn’t forget about him.” She shrugged and turned to go back inside, offering for the two of them to join them for the party that night. Both declined; they were expected home soon, but they told her to give their regards to the birthday boy and the others.

In a flash of golden light and the rustle of wings, Chuck and Michael were gone, for the time being…


End file.
